Rethinking Things
by HerMidnightQuill
Summary: ON HIATUS! Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are forced into marriage by the Ministry after the war. Can they make it work, despite their past, friends, families, and the prejudices of the wizarding world? Not Epilogue compliant.
1. Tomorrow

Author's Note:

Five Things You Need to Know:

1. I don't own Harry Potter

2. Erm... Hi? Yes, I'm still alive. I took a bit of an unplanned ..break... in my story-writing when I moved to France and tried to adjust to my life here. And in case you were wondering, France and the United States? Way different. So then I finally came back to writing the story and realized I didn't quite like the direction I had been taking it and so I _rewrote_ some bits, but I don't know if it fits and then I started writing another story and now I feel like I don't like how I did the POV and I feel like their characters aren't consistent and it's too unrealistic and... you get the picture.

3. I could really use a second mind to bounce ideas off of, and maybe a third.

4. Anyways, here's an updated three chapters, with a fourth coming very soon! Please don't review and tell me what you think.

Yes... that was a pitiful attempt at reverse psychology.

Bonus 6th point:

6. I really love lists.

On to the story!

* * *

><p>"Granger, you're kidding me, right?"<p>

Hermione sighed as she began rubbing her temples.

"No, unfortunately I'm not kidding you, Malfoy." She sighed again. "Though I wish I was."

"I don't believe you."

She didn't bother responding.

"Surely you can't really mean to say that the Ministry of _Bloody_ Magic is attempting to force us into _marriage!_"

Hermione dropped her hands into her lap and looked up at the raging wizard in front of her, a serious tone entering her voice as she said, "That's exactly what I mean, Malfoy. And there's nothing you or I can do about it."

"Of course there is, you silly witch!" he sneered. "What's their price?"

"Price?" She asked, a single eyebrow rising on her forehead.

"Yes, you heard me. Price. How much will they accept in order to make an... exception?"

"Malfoy, you can't just buy off the ministry in order to get what you want," she said, exasperated.

"Of course I can. We always have. It's like they make up these stupid laws just to get our money!"

"Not this time they haven't," she explained. "Kingsley specifically told me that no amount of money you offer would get either of us out of this. And you're lucky I'm telling you now and you didn't find out your fate in the Daily Prophet."

"Oh come on, Granger!" he whined. "You're a war-hero! Surely you can pull some strings or something!"

Hermione stood suddenly, finally angered at Malfoy's persistent complaints. "No, _Malfoy_, I _cannot pull strings_ just because I helped save the wizarding world from a fate worse than death. I hate this as much as you do. No, I hate it more than you do. So whether you like it or not, we're getting married within three months or having both of our wands snapped."

"Wands snapped? Would they really _do_ that?" Malfoy asked, appalled at the thought.

"Yes," Hermione stated, gathering her things to leave the office, "they would. And I would have you know, I refuse to lose my wand and leave the wizarding world. That leaves us with one other option. Send me an owl when you come to your senses."

"But Granger, there must-"

"_Goodbye_, Malfoy!"

Hermione then stormed out of her office, informing her secretary to make sure he left, and by golly to call security if he didn't. Hermione needn't have bothered. If she hadn't been walking at such a furious pace, she would have seen that Malfoy stormed out of her office only moments after she did. However, she was busy fuming at the fact that the Ministry had put her into this position in the first place. She had found out earlier that morning, and hadn't completed a lick of work because of it.

Her heels clicked angrily as she marched through the Ministry of Magic towards the floo network.

Minister Shacklebolt had called her into his office that morning. It wasn't terribly unusual. Ever since things had begun to settle down after the war, the Golden Trio had taken an active part in restoring the wizarding world to its former glory. The Minister particularly valued Hermione's knowledge and insight, and frequently called on her for advice, despite her young age. He did not, however, call upon her for this.

She huffed as she thought about the fact that this was possibly the most important decision Minister Shacklebolt had ever made, and he didn't even bother to consult her.

"_Miss Granger," he had begun that morning. "I understand it that you're not seeing anyone at the moment?" _

'What an odd thing to ask,_' she remembered thinking. _

"_Well no, Minister. I'm not. Ron and I broke up almost a year ago and I work so much―" she paused. "Why do you ask?"_

"_I've decided to inform you of a new law before it reaches the presses. I'm afraid it will cause... a change in your life." _

"_A change? Have I heard of this law before? What is it?"_

"_As you know, the Ministry is currently facing many challenges due to the war. For one thing, we are concerned that Pureblood elitism will only fester and reappear again under a new dark lord." The Minister of Magic stood up and began pacing behind his desk. _

"_Well yes, but apart from education, there's hardly a thing that can be done about that, is there?" she asked, confused with where he was going._

_Ignoring her question, he continued. "We're also concerned about the birth rates. Many have lost their loved ones, and many are afraid to marry, not knowing who they can and cannot trust." _

_The wheels were turning in Hermione's minds, but no amount of thought could have prepared her for what she heard next._

"_We have determined that the solution to both of those problems is a marriage law."_

_Stunned silence filled the office as Kingsley stopped his pacing a moment to gauge her reaction. Hermione simply could not wrap her mind around it. _

"_Marriage law?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She looked up at Kingsley, swallowed her ire, and said, "That's not a very funny joke, Minister."_

_He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the battle of wills and wit which he knew was about to take place. Hermione Granger was the last person left on earth he would want to have that battle with. _

"_That's because it's not a joke." _

_Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to consider how she could have possibly misinterpreted what the Minister was telling her. Surely it _was_ a misinterpretation, because a marriage law to solve the prejudice and low birth rates in the magical world was absurd. "Explain," she demanded. _

_As Kingsley explained in greater detail the concerns the ministry faced and the solution they came up with, Hermione's outrage only continued to rise._

"_Minister, you can't be serious!" she said. "You're forcing marriage upon anyone between the ages of 17 and 30 to prevent _discrimination_? It's positively medieval!" _

"_What then, Miss Granger, do you suggest instead?" he demanded, desperation and anger tinging his voice. _

"_As I said earlier, education! We must teach the purebloods about muggleborns and vice versa. Once they understand each other, they will be more tolerant! Or if worse comes to worse, simply force them to spend time with one another! But marriage? It's ludicrous, unreasonable, senseless, preposterous, and absolutely idiotic!" _

_Kingsley sighed and sat down in his chair. "We've been attempting to educate people since before the first war, Miss Granger. We all know it didn't work. There are countless lives destroyed to prove it. We must do something more drastic." _

"_You said it meant change for me. What does this marriage law mean for me? Why are we having this meeting?"_

"_We've already arranged a marriage partner for you. As our country's most esteemed female hero, we're depending on you to set the example to prove that this will work." _

"_Who?"_

"_Draco Malfoy."_

"_You're lying." _

_Hermione then proceeded to battle it out with the Minister of Magic himself. Had she been anyone else, she would have been promptly evicted from the Ministry without a job. But she was Hermione Granger, and he needed her. Unfortunately for Hermione, no amount of threatening, pleading, or convincing would cause him to change his mind. She was to have the first Ministry arranged marriage that the wizarding world had ever experienced, and she was to make everyone else think that it was something to be desired._

Hermione pulled herself back to the present, grabbed a pinch of floo powder and stated, "Grimmauld Place," and stepped into the green, swirling flames to go talk to her best friends.

"Hermione! I was wondering when you'd sho-" Harry's half-finished sentence hung in the air as his, Ron, and Ginny's shocked faces took in Hermione's appearance.

"You look bloody awful!"

"Thanks, Ron. Ever the charmer, you are."

Hermione walked into the room and sank into a chair, exhaustion overtaking her.

"I'll get some tea," Ginny said, scurrying around before placing Hermione's favorite mug full of peppermint tea into her hand. She sniffed deeply, letting the comforting aroma calm her before she began her tale.

Her three friends had much of the same reaction as Hermione. They shouted and ranted and bellowed and blustered before they too sank into their chairs in hopelessness.

"So you've got to marry the ferret then?"

"Yes, there's no way out."

"But you can always divorce him later, can't you?" asked Harry, his ignorance about the wizarding world showing itself.

"No, Harry," Hermione shook her head. "Wizarding marriages are binding for life. There's no divorce, no way out."

"Blimey."

"Yeah."

"Three months?"

She nodded. "It's supposed to be in the Daily Prophet soon. It will be announced that Malfoy and I are the first match. The rest are to be made sometime over the next several months."

"Do they have any rhyme or reason for how they're matching people? I mean, how did you get stuck with him?" Ginny asked.

"Well for everyone else they'll make matches based on blood status and questionnaires they're sending out tomorrow. For Malfoy and I... well it was just logical wasn't it?"

"How do you mean?" asked Ron, not seeing any logic in it whatsoever.

"Well Malfoy is a notorious Pureblood, coming from one of the most ancient lines there is. He's like the most famous, elite, and eligible pureblood there is. And also the most dangerous. They knew I'd be able to handle him, and it's not very likely that they could make a match more opposite than Malfoy and I. They're hoping I'll make it work out so it will be an example to everyone else who complains."

"That's true," Harry said. "Slytherin Prince. Gryffindor Princess. Pureblood. Muggleborn. Death Eater. Order Member. But are you sure he won't try to hurt you, Hermione?"

"Well honestly? No, I'm not," she said, examining her fingernails. Her tone of voice suggested that the thought had already crossed her mind. "But certainly I can always keep my guard up. And if anything ever _were_ to happen to me, he'd have the entire Ministry of Magic investigating him within minutes. With that in mind, I think I'll be safe."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right," Ron stated. "But we're going to bloody kill him if he tries anything!"

"Of course," Hermione said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"We'll be here for you, Hermione. Always," said Harry, standing up to give her a comforting embrace.

"Thanks," she sniffed. "I still feel as if it can't be real. Like I'll wake up from a dream any moment."

"It's no dream. I pinched myself to check."

"Yeah, I did that about eight-hundred times already too," she cracked a small smile. Her face became serious once more as she turned to Ron. "You know it means you'll be matched too, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "Yeah, I'd thought of that."

After a few more minutes of chatting, Hermione picked herself up from the chair and said, "Well, I think I'll go wallow in self-pity for a while tonight. I'll keep you posted. Malfoy still hasn't agreed to this whole marriage yet."

After arriving at her own flat, Hermione changed into her most cozy sweat pants and made herself comfortable on the balcony. It was the place she always went whenever she had to think.

Her mind travelled back to the man she was to marry. She only knew him as a boy, teasing, sneering, hurting. Even though his insults had stopped hurting after fourth year, he was still certainly not anyone she wanted to spend more time around. They would never be able to agree on anything.

Hermione had dreams of liberating house elves, of living a simple lifestyle so that she could give to others. She pictured herself some day settling into a small but comfortable house somewhere in the country, where she would live with her doting husband and adorable children and occasional charity projects. And hopefully she would eventually stop being in the public eye so much as well. For some reason, she couldn't see Malfoy accepting such a lifestyle.

All in one day, she had to let go of all her dreams. And most importantly, she had to let go of her dream for love. It seemed her heart ripped in two at the thought. True, she hadn't been actively seeking love.

But she hadn't tossed the idea out the window either. She was only nineteen after all! She was far too young to get serious and settle down!

Hermione grabbed her wand and accio'd a tub of ice-cream and a spoon towards herself. She would eat her sorrows tonight. She would wallow in self-pity. She would cry and she would laugh at the irony, that this was happening to her _because_ of all she had done for the world.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow she would pull it all together. She would say goodbye to dreams and goodbye to love, and she would accept her life for what it now was. Plus there had to be some benefits in the marriage. For one, she would be Lady Malfoy. Not that the title in itself was what she desired. But it would give her power. Power for change. Power to free houselves, starting at Malfoy Manor itself. And she would have money, enough money to support every charity in the world probably. But she would start with the war victims. She grinned about the thought that she would hand out all of Malfoy's money to people he considered lower than himself.

And she could still work. In fact, she would work so much that she would hardly see her husband. Perhaps they would even live in different houses, only making appearances together every now and then to make the world at large believe that they were happily in love.

Yes, this was a miserable situation, but there's a silver lining in everything. She would make it work.

Tomorrow.


	2. Contracts

Hermione's wand buzzed rudely beneath her pillow. She groaned tiredly at her wake up call, but slid out of bed anyways, walking towards her shower.

As she stepped into the steamy water, wondering why she was so exhausted, memories from the day before suddenly came flooding back to her. She groaned again as she considered the fact that she would possibly rather marry a blast-ended skrewt than Draco Malfoy. But remembering her conviction of the previous night, she was determined not to wallow any longer. Instead, she focused her energies on getting ready for the day, taking extra care to make sure she looked her best. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect, but she wouldn't be terribly surprised if everyone who spotted her felt the need to congratulate her, give her their condolences, or question her.

Just as she was about to floo into the Ministry, an owl from the Minister himself arrived at her window.

_Miss Granger,_

_I would like to discuss a few things with you. Please floo directly to my office._

_-Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt_

Curiosity overtook her thoughts as she wondered what else the Minister could possibly wish to speak to her about. Perhaps he was going to require her to get the makeover that _Witch Weekly_ had been talking about giving her since the end of the war. After all, it was all about publicity now.

Soon upon her arrival, she learned that Kingsley was merely making sure that all was going according to plan. He wanted Hermione to promise to make a public outing of some sort with Malfoy within the next 48 hours, and had informed her that her marriage would not be announced in the _Prophet_ until tomorrow.

"But Minister," Hermione protested, "he hasn't even agreed to marry me yet, let alone ask me out on a... date!"

"What do you mean he hasn't agreed? He doesn't have a choice!"

"Well yes, there's always a choice. He could leave the wizarding world instead."

"A Malfoy live as a muggle? Surely you don't really think that's a possibility do you? He would rather marry a muggleborn than live as a muggle. I'm sure of it."

"Very well then. I'll send him an owl informing him that he must make his decision by dinner time."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Kingsley replied, visibly relaxing. "Another thing."

Hermione held in all scathing comments that threatened to escape her lips. She was beginning to dread anything that the man in front of her could possibly have to discuss.

"I was wondering if you've considered creating some type of contract of sorts."

"Contract? What type of contract did you have in mind?"

"To make the marriage more agreeable." Kingsley sighed and began examining his hands. "I wasn't happy to put you into this situation, to give you a life mate that seemingly hates everything about you."

Hermione pursed her lips in distaste. There had to be other options. There were always options. She didn't buy Kingsley's sad tale for a second. But she would agree to it if it was choosing between Malfoy and leaving the world she so loved.

"What types of things would you suggest I put in said contract?" she asked, choosing not to share her thoughts on the situation again.

"Well for one, I might suggest putting in something about public appearances. You will want to make sure that you have an agreement about how many times a week you will appear together, what your relationship will look like to outsiders, things like that."

Hermione nodded, wondering whether that had anything to do with her personal health and happiness.

"Yes, that will benefit the Ministry greatly, I'm sure," she replied, unsuccessfully holding back the fake smile from her features.

Kingsley grimaced, "You've always been able to see straight through other people, haven't you, Hermione?"

_Obviously._ She waited for him to continue.

"You might also consider putting in a contract of fidelity. The reporters always find even the smallest of indiscretions."

"Kingsley, I've been in the center of the public's attention for quite some time now, and have been best friends with Harry Potter since we were eleven. I'm well aware of how the media works."

"Which is exactly why we trust you to do this job," Kingsley said, trying to butter her up with his compliment.

"Is it a job or is it a life long marriage sentence?" she said bitterly.

There was little that the Minister could say in response to that.

"A discussion of finances will also be important. I can't imagine Draco Malfoy will desire to spend money in the same way that you will."

"Yes Minister, I will consider that," she said, standing up. "Now if that's all, I've got work to do."

Hermione made her way through the Ministry to her own office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Kingsley was infuriating sometimes. She understood that he was forced to make difficult decisions, but surely this could not be the best decision in _this_ situation.

She sighed, choking down the tears. She _would not wallow_. Instead she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, writing a note to Malfoy to tell him to meet her at her apartment at six o'clock on the dot with his decision.

Hermione rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and attached the letter to her owl's leg. Now that she lived on her own, it wasn't practical for her to rely on using Hedwig any longer. She now had a beautiful tawny owl, who to her great surprise and delight, got along splendidly with Crookshanks.

"Pallas, take this to Draco Malfoy, please." Pallas blinked up at Hermione in response before hooting cheerfully and flying out the window. Hermione watched her go until she was a speck in the sky. She then pulled out some paperwork from her desk, determined not to lose another entire day's work. It was only a matter of minutes before she realized that she would not be able to focus on work that day either.

Tap tap tap.

She had been so distracted that she had completely forgotten about the_ Daily Prophet_ that morning. She slid open her window again and placed a knut into the owl's pouch, at the same time giving him a hard-earned treat. She then removed the _Prophet _from the owl's leg and scanned the title.

'MINISTRY ANNOUNCES MARRIAGE LAW!'

Hermione scanned the rest of the paper, searching for her own name. She was glad that her own marriage hadn't yet been announced. She didn't think she was ready to handle the onslaught yet. She wanted to make sure she had everything together before they came after her. Although, judging by her conversation with Kingsley, she guessed she had twenty-four hours at the most before all of Britain knew her fate.

A sudden sense of urgency came over her. She needed to be prepared for meeting with Malfoy that evening. If this marriage was going to work in her favor, she must be one step ahead of him at all times.

She reluctantly put away her paperwork she had been hoping to complete that morning. She was nearly a month in advance in her schedule anyhow. Surely another day wouldn't kill her. Instead she pulled out her parchment and began brainstorming what she would put in their contract.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap.

'_How odd,' _she thought. '_I never receive this many owls.' _Looking up, she found Pig hovering excitedly outside her window.

"Well come on then, Pig," she encouraged. "What do you have for me?" She handed the little owl a treat as she took the letter, recognizing Ron's handwriting.

_Hermione,_

_Meet Harry and me for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron at noon._

_-Ron_

Short and sweet, Hermione noted. How vey Ron-like.

_Ron,_

_Next time you might consider the words "Will you" and "please." Merely a suggestion. I'll see you there. _

_-Hermione_

Hermione once again pulled out her parchment for brainstorming and began furiously scribbling away, considering everything from where they would live to how they would interact with their grandchildren. Yes, she would be a step ahead. Or five or six.

Lunch came and went. Hermione didn't want to focus on her impending doom, choosing instead to talk about the fates of her best friends. Luckily her two friends didn't really want to think about Malfoy anymore either, so they didn't dwell on the subject.

Since Harry was in a serious relationship with Ginny, the Minister promised him that his marriage would not be arranged so long as he proposed to Ginny within the week. Harry had accepted the conditions, knowing that Ginny was the one he wanted to marry anyway. He hadn't planned on marrying her so soon, but they could make it work.

Ron, on the other hand, had his life in the Ministry's hands just as Hermione's was. He had been mailed the questionnaire Hermione had heard about the day before. It was 1,000 questions long, asking questions about everything from favorite colors to preferences in the bedroom. '_Bloody intrusive, that is!' _ Ron had said. He didn't like the situation any more than Hermione, and was becoming increasingly more anxious about who he would be forced to marry.

"It probably won't be as bad as you think, Ron," Hermione comforted. "I mean, at least you're Pureblood. That surely means you won't marry another Pureblood, and they're the worst of the bunch, really."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron sighed. "You're probably right. I just wish... I wish I could get married for love, not for some stupid law." Hermione let out a pained smile.

"I know exactly how you feel," she replied honestly.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a whirlwind for Hermione. Before she knew it, Malfoy was supposed to arrive within 10 minutes and she was just finishing the last touches on her flat. However bizarre it was to have him in her home, she also realized that it was the safest place to meet without drawing attention to themselves yet. They would have plenty of that attention in the very near future, Hermione felt sure of it.

She was so lost in thought that she hadn't even realized that Malfoy had suddenly appeared in her home until he broke her out of her reverie with a simple, "Granger."

"Malfoy," she greeted, slightly startled. It took a moment for her to compose herself. "Tea?"

"I'd love some," he responded with fake enthusiasm. She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen as she rummaged around for cups. Malfoy walked straight in and made himself comfortable in her favorite chair. It was where she always sat. From that vantage point, she had her back to the wall and could see out both windows in her kitchen and to the front door. It's where she felt most safe. Some habits she developed during the war could never be shaken. She bit her tongue, knowing that Malfoy couldn't possibly know that it was _her_ seat, and delivered the tea, cream, and sugar to the table. They prepared their cups silently, neither one of them wanting to bring up the dreaded subject.

Finally, Hermione felt it could be avoided no longer. "Have you made up your mind, then?" It was bizarre having him in her home, sitting there as if he owned the place. Their interactions were anything but comfortable. She wondered if it would be like this their entire lives.

"What do you think?" he said, sounding more like a grumpy child than anything else.

"I think you have no choice but to agree to this marriage. A Malfoy would never live as a muggle, even if the alternative was ruining the bloodlines," she answered his rhetorical question.

"Very clever, Granger," he sneered. "Bravo."

"I've come up with a contract," she began, not wasting a minute. She wanted this meeting over as soon as possible. "I believe it will help us tremendously if we have decisions and agreements made as soon as possible. All you need to do is review it and then we can both sign."

"Always prepared I see," Draco smirked. "Unfortunately for you, the Malfoys are centuries ahead of you. We came up with a contract ages ago."

"Contract? What sort of contract?"

"Surely you don't think we would let Lady Malfoy do just _anything_ do you?"

"Malfoy, if you think you can control me for one minute you have another thing coming!" Hermione hissed, not liking the direction this conversation was going.

"Oh calm down, Granger. Surely you would have seen this coming?"

"Yes," she conceded, the anger sliding out of her as she thought about it. "I had wondered at the possibility. I only hoped against it."

He gave her a smug smile before sipping his tea.

"Do you have it with you? I want to read it over before I even consider signing it."

Malfoy pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, revealing an aged parchment about a meter long.

Hermione reached out and grabbed the parchment from mid-air, at the same time pulling out her own parchment and handing it to Draco. "I'll read yours if you read mine."

Malfoy winked and said, "My pleasure." She gave him a glare at his lewdness but didn't have the energy for something further. She was determined not to get riled up.

Hermione's parchment was only about half the length of the Malfoy contract. She thought she had considered everything, but clearly the Malfoys had been building upon their own contract for generations. The guidelines were archaic and medieval. They expected the Malfoy wife to be subservient, a perfect hostess, loyal, always beautiful and perfectly made up, and always singing the praises of her husband and in-law's to name a few. There was no criteria in it for the Malfoy men, except that they must remain loyal to their wives. And even that wasn't out of any sense of honor, but merely to ensure that there would be no illegitimate heirs running around, or _worse, _half-bloods.

Malfoy had finished reading several minutes before Hermione had. He took the time to study her, engrossed as she was by the reading material in front of her. He had expected that she might suggest a contract. Granger was always over-thinking everything, and he was sure that she would never let her guard down around him. Her part in the war had made sure of that. She had aged considerably since their time at Hogwarts. She didn't look like a woman of a meager 19 years. She looked to be 23 at least, but with the wisdom and insight of an 80 year old. Despite that, she wasn't ugly, if he had to admit it to himself, which he tried not to.

Her contract had been almost exactly what he had expected as well. It was filled with all sorts of rubbish about fidelity, where they would live, who would have what money, visitation rights for their future children, and public appearances. He suspected the Ministry had put her up to that last one. Granger didn't seem like the type of person who would care all that much how the public viewed them.

He gazed at her furrowed eyebrows as she continued reading. Clearly she was unhappy about the antiquated contract. He couldn't really blame her if he was to be honest. Who really wanted a woman who would lie down at his feet and tell him anything he wanted to hear? He had seen his mother do that all his life. Not only was the woman miserable, but Father never believed a word she said anyways. He knew that she would have to spout off compliments whether he deserved them or not. Draco didn't want that. If his wife were to ever say anything nice about him, he wanted to know it was genuine. Although he had a feeling that an extremely powerful silencing charm might be necessary.

Hermione sighed and finally set down the parchment, piercing him with an angry glare. "Have you read this?" she asked. He answered with a raised eyebrow. "It's rubbish."

"What, Granger?" He gave her a wry grin. "Don't think you can meet the requirements of a Lady Malfoy? Afraid you won't satisfy me in bed?"

"That's the least of my concerns," she said, rolling her eyes. "And I especially _love_ the part about how a Lady Malfoy is to always impress the most important person in the room, being sure to add compliments about her own husband."

"Do you mean to say," Draco began, looking into her eyes with as serious an expression as he could muster, "that you won't be gushing to the Minister about all of my accomplishments at every available opportunity?"

Hermione couldn't keep the confusion off her face as she said, "Malfoy, are you... are you _joking_ with me?"

"It appears I am," he drawled. Secretly, he was just as surprised as Hermione about that. "Anyways, Granger, I expected you not to agree to my family's prehistoric contract anyways. You can burn it for all I care."

"Burn it?" she said, aghast. He merely shrugged.

"Just like that, you're going to let go of centuries of Malfoy tradition?" Hermione could hardly believe what was happening. She was never going to sign the thing, of course. But she had expected she would need to put up a much greater fight than this.

"Look," Malfoy began, tone becoming a little bit more serious, "we both know that you're not going to ever sign the Malfoy contract."

Hermione nodded.

"And quite honestly, it mostly is all rubbish anyways. Why fight for something I don't actually care that much about in the first place?"

"Good, I'm glad you see sense," Hermione replied, thinking that this was going much better than she had thought.

"Besides," Malfoy continued, "I'd rather pick my battles over something a little bit more important." There was a sense of ominousness in that statement. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"To which battles are you referring?" she asked, suspicious.

Malfoy turned his eyes back to Hermione's parchment and said, "Your contract, for the most part, seems fair. It certainly would make this marriage a bit more bearable." He paused, letting the suspense build in Hermione's chest.

"But?" Draco smirked.

"But there are a few things that must be rectified."

"I don't know if that's possible, Malfoy."

"You haven't even heard what I've had to say. Are you really going to shoot me down that easily, Granger? How very... un-Gryffindor of you."

"What is it you deem so important that we change?" she asked, refusing to rise to his bait.

"First of all, we're going to have to change the part about the house-elves. I'm not going to force them to take clothes just so that they can leave the Manor and starve to death because they can't find work anywhere else."

"I don't expect them to leave the Manor," Hermione defended. "But I do expect them to have the _choice to leave_ if they want. They deserve liberty as much as you and I do. And they deserve days off and pay as well. Besides, don't you know what my job is, Malfoy? It would hardly look very good if the very person in charge working for the unity and equality of magical creatures _enslaved_ a bunch said creatures herself."

"They don't _want_ to be freed, nor do they want pay, nor do they want vacation. Working _is_ vacation to them. It's all they care about."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked, getting a little bit worked up. "Have you ever bothered to _ask_ them?"

"No," Draco said, looking confused and incredulous. "But _everyone_ knows what house-elves are like. Anyways, we're never going to see this the same way. I'll make a compromise. When you become _Lady_ of the Manor, you can speak to each house-elf and _offer_ them whatever you like. Then it can be up to them whether they want to be freed or not. Sound fair?"

Hermione crossed her arms, trying hard not to look like she was pouting. "For now," she said begrudgingly.

"Wonderful," Malfoy replied, sarcasm lacing his tone. "And as for the 'visitation rights' as you so eloquently put it..."

She grabbed the parchment and scanned the words she already had memorized. "I suppose once a month is too often for you to spend time with your children? _Really, _Malfoy, that's hardly anything," she reproved him.

Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh at her or scream at her. Could she really be so ignorant as to think that's what he had a problem with?

"No, Granger," he said, in a tone that let her know that he was going to stand his ground. "I expect to have a more active role in my children's lives. I want to live with them."

"Live with them? But why?" Clearly she did not believe him to care one iota about his own children. "If you think I'm going to let you brainwash my children into all of your prejudices and hatred then you have another thing coming!"

"So, this is what you think of me, is it Granger?" There was barely contained fury underneath the surface, though everything about him was still so carefully controlled. "You think that I would care so little about my flesh and blood that I would agree to see them only once a month. My own _children_?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. She was flabbergasted. Had she read him wrong? But surely he didn't expect to have a normal relationship with half-blood children...

"That brings me to my next point," he began again before she could respond. "You will not be living in a little house of your own choosing. The day we get married is the day you move into Malfoy Manor, where we will live the rest of our lives as the _family _that we are supposed to be. I suggest you begin packing."

"No, I refuse," she said, anger rising in her own voice. "Give me one good reason for us to live there. It's an awful place."

"Because," he ground out, "it is my legacy. Just because I have so easily let go of the outdated, chauvinistic certificate of death my ancestors called a marriage contract does not mean I'm willing to let go of my family's entire history so easily. My children _will know_ of their ancestors and they will most certainly know_ me_."

"But the Manor is so excessive," Hermione began. "And I will not raise my children to believe that they are superior to the rest of the world simply because they will be Malfoys! What point is there in teaching them their history if it is only full of dark magic and immorality!"

"Granger," Malfoy said quietly, "you are clearly ignorant about my family's history. I do not pretend to support every decision that every Malfoy has ever made, but we're not what you think."

"Well what are you then?" Hermione suddenly stood and began pacing. Malfoy's demeanor had suddenly changed from furious to calm, collected and dangerous, and now Hermione could barely keep her cool. "What of the decisions _you_ have made? I _will not_ have my children thinking that Lord Voldemort should be celebrated as some heroic martyr!"

Malfoy looked away from her and out the window, carefully masking his features so that she could not see how deep those words had truly cut. "So is this how it's always going to be? You'll bring back demons from my past to push me around and force me to do as you'd like? You're just like everyone else on this God-forsaken earth."

Hermione was furious at the situation, but she couldn't help but realize her error. She had put him into a box, assumed that he still echoed all of his father's beliefs and loyalties just as he had when he was a boy. Merlin's Beard, she was acting like Ron! She hadn't even bothered to try and find out if he had a change of heart.

"No, you're right," she sighed, sitting back down. Clearly Draco had not expected that response. He snapped his head towards her, searching her gaze to see what he knew would be poorly hidden in her eyes. Gryffindors were always easy to read. "I'm just concerned for the children that don't even exist yet, that's all. I don't even know you, Malfoy. I shouldn't have stereotyped."

Draco nodded once at her, his face still not betraying what he was truly feeling.

Just then Hermione's stomach grumbled, drawing the attention of both of them. "It's already been over an hour," she stated, looking at her watch. "Why don't you stay for dinner? I think we have more we need to talk about tonight." However uncomfortable the thought of staying for dinner in Hermione Granger's house made him feel, he nodded his agreement. He knew as well as she that it was better to hash things out sooner rather than later.

"But who will cook?" he asked, looking around as if expecting a chef to pop out of nowhere. "I'm guessing you don't keep a house elf?"

"_I_ will cook of course. What an _odd_ question."

"It's not odd," he said defensively. "Witches never cook. You mean to say you know _how?_"

"Of course I know how," Hermione said, amusement tinging her voice. "All normal witches know how to cook."

"Will it be edible?" Draco asked. Hermione was about to be offended, but then she realized that he was truly ignorant.

"Of course it will," she replied. "I've had to survive somehow without loads of money all these years, haven't I?"

Hermione stood up from her seat and walked over to the pantry, telling Draco it would take just a minute. Her kitchen was rather small, seeing as she was the only one that lived in the flat. Draco pretended not to watch her as she cooked. He hadn't seen a single meal prepared since he snuck into the kitchens of Malfoy Manor one time when he was seven years old. The thought of a human being cooking that was not a servant intrigued him. With the help of magic to speed the process along, Hermione placed a steaming plate of rather delectable food in front of him not five minutes later. She sat there patiently as he eyed the food, waiting for him to take the first bite.

He leaned in close and sniffed.

"Oh for Godric's Sake, Malfoy, it's not poisoned!"

He looked up at her, clearly unconvinced. "Go on then, you take a bite first!"

She sighed and scooped some food onto her fork before biting and chewing. As soon as she swallowed, Malfoy picked up his own knife and fork and gracefully put a bite into his mouth. "Wow, Granger," he said. "That's actually tolerable!" He scooped another bite into his mouth.

"You don't have to sound so surprised."

"I've never had a meal that an elf or a servant hasn't prepared," he confessed, scooping his third bite into his mouth. If Hermione didn't know better, she would swear that Malfoy _liked _her cooking.

"There's a first time for everything I suppose."

Hermione would never admit it, but she was extremely impressed with Malfoy's table manners. Clearly the man knew how to use a knife and a fork. He didn't talk with his mouth full like Ron and even Harry so often did, and even rivaled Hermione on etiquette. She grudgingly admitted to herself that she appreciated that.

"Well then," Hermione said, taking on the tone of voice Malfoy was so used to hearing in the classroom. "I think we ought to get down to business then."

"Alright, then. What delightful subject would you like to discuss now?"

"If you want to have an active role in raising our children, I want to ensure that you'll be raising them with the same ideals that I have," She said, not missing a beat.

"Go on then," Malfoy replied, internally dreading whatever she might say next. He just knew it wouldn't bode well for him.

"I'd like to know your thoughts on blood purity, magical creatures, and..."

"And _what_, Granger?"

"The war."

He was right, he didn't like this one bit.

"That's intrusive," he replied, despite knowing he wouldn't get out of it that easily.

"If you're going to be the father of my children, you're going to have to deal with a few intrusive questions."

"No worries, Granger," Draco replied, a smirk overtaking his features. "You won't be the only one _intruding _for our children, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"That's highly inappropriate, Malfoy!" Hermione gasped.

Draco chuckled before replying, "Oh come on, Granger. You're going to have to think about sleeping with your own fiancé at some point."

"Stop avoiding my question, Malfoy," Hermione replied, switching tactics. "What do you believe now?"

Malfoy instantly sobered and took another bite to stall.

"I can't really see why you need to know my thoughts on all these topics, Granger. I'll agree not to teach my children that the Dark Lord was a hero or that Purebloods are better than everyone else, but that's as much as you need to know."

He finished off the last bite from his plate before sighing and looking up at her. "I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear. I'm not going to tell you that I think muggles are the next best thing on earth, or that I think all Purebloods should marry muggleborns, or that I'm going to start supporting the liberation of all house-elves everywhere. I'd appreciate you _not_ trying to mold me into another Harry bloody Potter."

"Fine."

"You don't have to worry about me teaching our children the same things I was taught growing up. But I insist upon us living as a family, in Malfoy Manor. On those two issues I will not budge, and that's final. If you have a problem with it, you can have your wand snapped and proceed your life as a muggle."

Hermione folded and unfolded her hands in her lap, staring at some point beyond Draco's shoulder. He could tell that she was thinking hard.

"Alright," she said, nodding at him.

"What?" he asked, somewhat startled. She couldn't be agreeing that easily!

"We'll live together, in Malfoy Manor," she stated. "However, I will be adding into the contract the ideals that you may _not_ teach our children. And should you ever begin to teach them such ideals, even once, the agreement will be broken and I'll be leaving with them. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Just one more condition."

"And that would be?" she asked, unsure of what else he would want.

"I want us to redecorate the Manor. You can hire someone, you can spend as much money as you want. It just can't be the same as... It just can't be the same."

"Alright then," Hermione replied.

"And no Gryffindor colors!" Draco added, noticing the gleam in her eye.

"Fine, then no Slytherin colors either," she replied, disappointed that he had caught on so quickly.

"Sounds like we have ourselves a deal, Granger," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake on it. Hermione tentatively reached out her hand, grabbing his while thinking about the fact that it was probably the first time she had touched him since she had punched him back in third year.

"Deal."

Hermione pulled over the parchment, scribbling in their new agreements and proofreading it one more time to make sure all conditions were applicable and fair.

"Shall we sign then, Malfoy?" she asked, holding out a quill for him to take.

He squinted his eyes at the quill and the parchment which she held out to him. "What's going to happen to me if I break it?" he asked, remembering the fate of Marietta Edgecombe.

"Planning something already?"

"No," he replied, quite honestly.

"Then let's not worry about it then," she replied.

"Granger, I want to know what kind of jinx I'm risking. What if I get drunk and accidentally sleep with a wench or something?"

"Then you'll find your bits jinxed off the next day," she replied.

"Seriously?" he asked, eyes widening in horror.

Hermione almost giggled in response. "Well, no. But that scenario's not really possible in the first place."

"How so?" he asked, suddenly a bit suspicious.

"As soon as you sign the parchment, you'll find that you're physically incapable of sleeping with another woman."

"_Incapable?" _

She nodded.

"How so?"

"Let's just say you might have a difficult time getting certain, erm―_ body parts_― to participate," she explained with a blush, looking at the floor.

Draco, for the first time Hermione ever remembered hearing, let out a small laugh. "My, my, Granger. You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Hopefully," she said, her eyes wide. Clearly she didn't like the idea of missing something.

"Is that all I need to know about the parchment?"

"Well, yes and no," she replied evasively. "Let's just say you don't want to break the contract."

He sighed, not really sure if he really wanted to know what else could possibly happen to him.

"Alright then, hand it over," he said. He grabbed the quill, scratched his name onto the bottom, and held it out for Hermione to sign as well. As soon as she did, the scroll magically rolled itself up and disappeared in an ominous poof.

"I suppose it's official then," she said.

"I suppose so."

"The betrothal is going to be announced in the _Prophet_ tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Draco gulped. "Already?"

"Yes," she said, sounding a bit dejected. "Minister Shacklebolt asked if we could make an appearance tomorrow. A date of sorts."

"Well that's bloody fantastic!" he said, clearly upset. "As if you haven't done enough for the fool!"

"Defending my honor, are you?"

Draco ignored her jibe. "He's being a bit unfair don't you think?"

"I'm not doing it for him, Malfoy," she explained. "It's for our world. It's for everyone who died in the war. It's for my children."

Draco was amazed by this. Didn't she ever get sick of thinking about everyone else all the time? And how could she possibly think so much about her children that weren't even born yet? _His_ children?

Blimey, Hermione Granger was going to have his children, and he wasn't quite sure what he thought about it. Part of him still felt all the animosity that he was raised to feel towards her. Part of him still hated her for always doing so much better than him in school, for always being more intelligent, and such an annoying know-it-all. Part of him was still jealous, that she had so many real friends, that her life was so perfect while he was so alone and so very _not_ perfect. And part of him felt pleased that she was to be _his_. Draco had never expected to marry for love. The witch in front of him intrigued him, and he reluctantly admitted to himself the fact that it could be much, much worse.

"Sounds like a date then," he finally said. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six."

Hermione nodded and ushered him to the fireplace.

"And Granger?"

"Mm?"

"Wear something nice," he said, winking crudely at her before he took off in a 'whoosh.'


	3. Hoping

The next day Hermione was in her office when the _Daily Prophet_ arrived. Sure enough, the front page was covered in pictures of her and Malfoy with all sorts of speculations on whether the marriage would be a disaster or a success.

Yes, it was evident that the Ministry was depending on her to set the pace for the rest of the wizarding world. However she and Draco made their relationship work would be the norm for nearly every single other witch and wizard forced into a marriage.

She pushed thoughts of her impending doom out of her mind and forced herself to focus on the paperwork which she had put off for two days, only looking away from it in order to meet Harry, Ginny, and Ron for lunch.

During lunch she informed them of the contract that Malfoy and she had signed the evening before.

"You mean he actually agreed to all your terms?" Ron asked, clearly not believing Malfoy was capable of such a thing.

"Well, mostly," Hermione replied, fidgeting with her food.

"Mostly?" Harry asked. "Go on, Hermione."

"Well in the contract I had stated that we would live in separate houses and that he could visit any future children we'll be forced to have once a month."

"And he disagreed?" said Ron, scratching his head. "Well blimey, I figured he'd at least want to see his kids every now and then."

"Actually no," Hermione replied. "That's not what he had a problem with."

"Well then what was his problem?" Ginny asked.

"He wants us to live like a normal family. He said he wants an active role in his kids' lives, and he wants me to move into Malfoy Manor the day we get married."

"You can't be serious!"

"Malfoy Manor? He must be barking!"

"Was he sober when you discussed this?"

Hermione fidgeted with her food some more before saying, "No, he wasn't drunk or insane. And he had one more condition."

"What else could he possibly want from you?" Ron asked.

"He requested that we redecorate the Manor before I move in."

"How bizarre."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well that's an easy fix, Hermione," Ginny said, grinning. "You can just decorate everything in Gryffindor colors!"

"Yeah I had thought of that too," Hermione said, smiling softly. "But then Draco seemed to know what I was thinking, and crushed that dream. We agreed we wouldn't decorate anything in Slytherin colors either."

"I guess that sounds fair enough," Harry said.

"Who would've thought Malfoy could be so... _fair_?" Ginny asked. "I mean, it sounds like he's been so cooperative. Are you sure he's not planning anything?"

"I don't think so, Gin," Hermione replied. She had obviously thought this through. "I mean, the man seemed so miserable. It looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and when he first came into my office his voice was hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in a while."

"What do you think it means?" asked Ron.

"I think it means he's miserable, and he probably just doesn't want to fight anymore than I do. We've both had a fair share of fighting for our lifetimes."

"You've never spoken a truer word, Hermione," Harry said.

"Well, Hermione," Ginny said with a mischievous smile, "at least he's a good looking bloke to make babies with!"

"Ginny!" both Hermione and Harry gasped at the same time.

"How could you say such a thing?" Hermione asked, a deep blush appearing on her face.

"Yeah, how could you?" Harry added.

"Oh don't worry," Ginny laughed, patting Harry's hand. "He's got nothing on you. I'm just saying, it could be a lot worse Hermione."

"Yeah, you could've been hooked up with Goyle," Ron added.

"Or Nott," Harry conceded.

"Or-"

"Okay, okay I get it!" Hermione said, holding up her hands for them to stop. But Ron just couldn't let it drop.

"Ginny's right, I mean if you're going to make babies with the guy, you at least want a decent looking bloke!"

"Oh, Ron! Can we please _not_ talk about me making babies with Malfoy yet? We'll consider that in about four years and six months!"

"Four years and six months? That's random."

"No it's not. That's the date we have to have our first child by," she explained, still blushing furiously. "Kingsley's requirement."

"I'm sure you'll have beautiful children," Ginny said, patting her on the shoulder. "Anyhow, we haven't talked about who Ron might have to marry. I suppose Millicent Bulstrode's out of the picture since she's a Pureblood."

Hermione was thankful for the change of subject. She didn't want to talk about her relationship with Malfoy any longer. She couldn't figure him out, and she didn't like that. Hermione Granger could always figure people out. But Draco was so... mysterious. She really had no clue what to think about their conversations from the night before. She had seen a side of Malfoy she had never seen before. The more time she spent around him, the more she actually began to pity him. He had been brainwashed his entire life, forced into service of the most evil wizard in all of existence, and now his life was in ruins. He couldn't help being born into the family he was anymore than she could. She was so intrigued by his current state of mind that she actually found that she was eager to spend time with him. He was a puzzle, and she loved solving puzzles.

Truth be told, she also hoped that she would be able to answer the questions that he hadn't yet figured out himself. She had the answers about Pureblood versus Muggleborn, and she wanted him to see the truth too.

The rest of the work day went by in a flurry, and before she knew it Hermione was racing home to get ready for their date. She was thankful for her experience over the last two years about dressing up for some function or another. Had someone told her to 'wear something nice' before two years ago, she likely would have gone into a panic trying to find something to wear. As it was, however, she was now an experienced and quite _cultured_ witch, thanks to the endless celebrations the wizarding world decided to force her to suffer through.

Malfoy arrived exactly when he promised, not a minute sooner or a minute later. Luckily for Hermione, she was a be-ready-at-least-ten-minutes-ahead-of-time type of girl, so she was calmly skimming through that morning's _Witch Weekly_ when he arrived.

"Look at this, Malfoy," she began as soon as he arrived through her fireplace, pointing to a line in the middle of the article about the two of them, "they seem to think that this marriage is going to be good for you. '_Hermione Granger is just the person to care for this confused, lonely, traumatized, and dashing young man_.'"

Draco smirked and replied, "Well they have one thing right. At least they know I'm dashing."

Hermione snorted.

"They also believe that the marriage will be good for you too if I remember correctly, Granger," Malfoy said, still smirking. "What was it that they wrote? _'If anyone will be able to get Hermione Granger to live a little and pull the stick out of her rear, Draco Malfoy will be the one to do it.'_"

"Yes, seems like they captured us both splendidly," Hermione replied sarcastically. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Surprise," Draco replied, holding out his arm so they could side-along apparate.

"I hate surprises," she said, refusing to cooperate. "Where are we going?"

"Now, now, control freak Granger," Draco admonished. "Live a little."

"I'm not a control fr―" she began defensively before Draco cut her off.

"Of course you are. But I'm still not telling you. Now let's get a move on, will you? We have reservations and they _won't_ wait all day." Truth be told, they _would_ wait all day for Draco Malfoy's money if he made them, but Hermione didn't need to know that.

She sighed and said, "I also hate side-along apparation."

"Yes, of course you do," Draco replied knowingly, holding out his arm once more for her to take hold of. "You're a control freak." And before Hermione could protest they disappeared with a 'pop!' and reappeared in front of a swanky restaurant in Diagon Alley. She didn't really know why she bothered asking Malfoy where they were going in the first place. Of course he would take her to some place like this. It was what the Ministry wanted after all, to show off their first prized couple.

Reporters and photographers instantly surrounded them, snapping pictures with unnaturally bright flashes and shouting out questions like, 'Do you think you'll ever have a marriage built on love and trust?' and 'Malfoy, how do you feel about tainting your bloodlines?' and 'Granger, do you feel like you're sleeping with the enemy?'

The couple ignored the obnoxious crowd and made their way into the upscale restaurant. The rest of the date went on rather uneventfully, except for the occasional witch sneaking in to snap as many pictures as she could before getting kicked out again. Hermione only hoped they would actually pick _decent_ pictures of her to put on the front page of the papers tomorrow.

They spent their date mostly in silence, occasionally making tense comments about the food for appearance sake. Now that they were actually together in public, neither one really knew how to act around the other. For all the years they knew each other, all interactions included intense dislike and verbal sparring. They very well couldn't make a scene for all the world to see, nor did they want to fight any longer. It was true that they had been served their fare share of fighting in their lifetime, and now at the ripe old age of nineteen, the two were weary of it.

When dinner was over and the dessert had been enthusiastically consumed, Draco escorted Hermione back to her flat. He had been a perfect gentleman the entire evening, exactly how he had been raised to be. The only difference was that he had been taught never to bestow the gift upon someone with Hermione's blood status. But times were changing, and the ancient Malfoy Code could hardly be regarded as applicable to life any longer.

At least, that's what he was telling himself the entire evening. Quite truthfully, he still wasn't sure what to believe. He was impressed with the witch who was to become his wife, but that didn't mean that he was impressed with her_ heritage_. When it came down to it, that's what he really didn't want to lose- his heritage. Sure the Malfoys before him typically tended to be right evil bastards, but that didn't mean that they didn't have any cultures and traditions worth keeping. The Purebloods had ages upon ages of culture, preserved far better than any muggle ever dreamed of. He felt like the muggleborns were entering the wizarding world and taking over, completely disregarding and discarding all tradition and values that the Purebloods had spent centuries refining. Understandably, it caused him to be a bit resentful. And that is what led to his insistence upon Hermione moving into the Manor. The rest of the wizarding world could forget about their history, but the Malfoys would always remember. He would make sure of it.

As soon as they arrived at her flat, Hermione noted, "Well that was fairly successful, don't you think?"

He was taken aback by the fact that she was actually asking him for his opinion. "Yes, I suppose it was. Though I doubt we acted nearly as in love as Shacklebolt would have liked."

Hermione snorted for the second time that night. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. But no one would have bought it anyways."

Draco smirked in response. She felt sure that she had seen enough of his smirking for a lifetime. "Our next date will be Friday evening."

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

Another smirk, though this one was almost playful. "Whichever you'd prefer, I'm sure."

"Sunday's fine, then," she replied, eyes narrowed. "Where are we going?"

"Oh come on, Granger. It's my personal duty to get the stick out of your arse," he smirked playfully again. "_Witch Weekly_ has already determined so."

"Very funny," she replied, not amused in the slightest.

"It'll be more casual, though I'm sure there will still be far too much media."

"Okay," she replied, still a little put out.

"See you, Granger," he drawled, walking over to her fireplace.

"See you," she replied. And he was gone in a 'whoosh' of green flames without a single backwards glance.

Hermione walked into her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. It was still an hour and a half before she generally went to bed. She would fill her time reading a book, which is what she would have been doing the entire evening anyways had she not had a date with Malfoy.

Just as she had settled down on the sofa with her book, snuggly blanket, and cup of peppermint tea, she heard a 'pop!' in her bedroom. Her apparition wards only allowed for the Weasleys, Harry and now Draco to apparate into her flat, but usually they did so in the living room, not her bedroom. Before she could get up and see who it was, she saw Ginny's head peek around the corner.

"Ginny, what on earth are you doing?" Hermione asked, amused at the redhead's antics.

"Oh good, it's just you," Ginny smiled.

"Who else would you expect?"

"Well Malfoy, maybe. That's why I showed up in your bedroom."

"Ah, I see," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Well I figured if he _did_ happen to be in your flat, your bedroom would still likely be a safe place to arrive."

Hermione chose not to respond to the absurdity of that statement and asked, "What brings you here?"

Ginny walked over and made herself comfortable on the other side of the sofa. The two had become much closer friends after the final battle. Since Ginny and Harry were dating so seriously, she had sort of become an honorary member of the Golden Trio, if one could add a fourth member to a trio. Hermione was thankful for Ginny's presence. It didn't change any of the dynamics that the three had become so accustomed to, and it was really quite nice to have another girl around. No matter how much she loved Ron and Harry, they would always be, well, _boys._ It didn't take long at all for Hermione and Ginny to form that close friendship that only girls could have.

Even after Ron and Hermione broke up, Ginny wasn't forced to pick sides at all, and still remained Hermione's constant confidante throughout it all. It helped that the break up was mutual.

"I wanted to hear how your date went with Malfoy," Ginny replied, clearly getting herself ready for a good story.

When Hermione explained how incredibly dull and uneventful it was, Ginny assured her that there was no way things would always stay that way.

" I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, Ginny," Hermione replied.

"Oh come on, Hermione," she said, "we all know you need a little more excitement in your life."

"I like my life perfectly fine the way it is now."

"Yes, that's because you don't know any different." And before Hermione could protest, she diverted her with another question. "So how did he act? I mean, was he cheerful? Sullen? Angry? Brooding?"

Hermione paused to think about it. "I'm not really sure," she replied truthfully. "He had his emotions masked so well that I had no idea what he had been thinking the entire time. He just had this smirk on his face the whole evening, just like when we were in school."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "I was hoping he'd be done with that face."

"It wasn't as unfriendly as it used to be," Hermione observed. "Just a little bit arrogant, and like he had some joke in his mind that no one else knew."

"Peculiar," Ginny replied, already moving on to the next subject. "So what does he think about blood purity and ruining his line and all that rubbish?"

"I don't really know," she said quietly.

"You know what I think?" started Ginny. Apparently she had already given the subject much thought.

"No, what do you think?"

"I think he's changed much more than anyone gives him credit for," she said, clearly firm in her stance. "I mean, he's had to hasn't he? No one could go through what he did and come out the same. It just makes me wonder _how_ he's changed."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I wonder that too."

"Looks like you're going to find out, isn't it?"

"Looks like it."

"So was he rude?"

"No, I guess he wasn't," she said. "I hadn't really noticed until you brought it up. Actually he was a perfect gentleman. He picked me up for the date, pulled out my seat for me, escorted me back home..."

"Interesting," Ginny said cryptically.

"What's interesting?"

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny suddenly gushed. "Don't you think this is just _so_ romantic? I mean, Draco Malfoy is the best looking bloke in your year, next to Harry of course. And suddenly you two are forced together, and pretty soon he'll see that he was wrong in all of his prejudices, and you're going to fall in love and have the most beautiful, intelligent babies the world's ever seen!"

"Romantic?" Hermione asked, incredulously. "You're off your rocker!"

"Am not!" Ginny defended.

"Are too!"

"Am not! Just wait and see!"

"Ginny, we're going to be lucky if we can get through this marriage with a shred of happiness in our lives! There's just no way we'll fall in love."

"Oh give him a chance, Hermione!" Ginny pleaded. "He's probably not as bad as you think."

"I think you're crazy."

"I've been right about stuff like this before."

"That doesn't make you a seer."

"It has nothing to do with divination. I just think you two would be perfect together! And he's a gentleman!"

"Just because you predicted Ron and I breaking up doesn't mean that I'll actually fall in love with Draco Malfoy!" Hermione said, a voice of finality in her tone.

"Sure, sure," Ginny said, knowing that it wouldn't get her anywhere to push the subject now. "Now that I'm thinking of it, Hermione, have you ever studied up on Wizarding Marriages?"

"No, not particularly," she replied. "They're mostly similar to muggle ones aren't they? Only you can't divorce."

"Not exactly," Ginny responded evasively. "Your comment about 'four years six months' just made me think that maybe you don't know quite everything. I might recommend reading a book or two about it."

"Okay," Hermione replied, not sure she really liked what Ginny was implying, but unwilling to question her further. If it had to do with _sex_ she'd be completely mortified.

"Well I should go," Ginny said, standing up. "You're coming over to the burrow on Saturday right?"

"Of course I am," Hermione said.

"Wonderful, I'll see you there."

Ginny disappeared with a 'pop' while Hermione attempted to lose herself in the book on her lap. She kept having thoughts of a blonde wizard that was sure to ruin her life in the near future. Or fall in love with her, depending on who you asked.

She thought Ginny was a little bit unstable if she really thought there was a possibility of her and Malfoy falling in love. It was clearly and entirely out of the picture.

But for some reason Hermione couldn't get her heart to stop hoping for that.


	4. A Different Point of View

A/N: I'll admit... reviews are powerful motivators, and I find myself strangely lacking in motivation to finish this story lately. This is the part where I shamelessly bribe you for reviews. If I get at least 20 reviews today, I'll post a new chapter in the morning. If not... then I'll post the next chapter whenever the fancy strikes. :)

Thanks for reading!

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><p>Draco Malfoy had spent his day much, much differently than Hermione Granger had. In fact, their lives could hardly become any more opposite considering they were both magical beings the same age and in the same country.<p>

He woke up that next morning knowing he wouldn't get her out of his head anytime soon.

He grabbed his broom and stepped outside into the fresh evening air. Flying was the best way to get his thoughts in order.

His mind was working rapidly, replaying the conversations he had with Granger, wondering about what his future might hold, and trying to understand his past― a past tainted with the awful stain of everything the Dark Lord had brought into his life.

He had grown up hearing all kinds of stories about how great the Dark Lord was. In Draco's mind, he had been a hero, victoriously fighting for something that they believed in. He had everything that Draco esteemed: power, allies, intelligence, unmatched manipulative skills, parsel-tongue... The list went on and on. When the Dark Lord returned, he believed that his family would be exalted above all other wizards and witches in the wizarding world and that they would finally receive the honor that they deserved. What reason would he have to think otherwise? He had been taught so since he was a child. The Dark Lord was a hero.

But then he finally met the ugly bastard and realized the sorry truth. He was nothing but a cruel, twisted, no-longer-human creature that had no interests but his own. When he found out that he wasn't even a Pureblood, his dislike of the thing called Voldemort intensified. He wanted nothing more than to pretend that the idiot didn't exist and continue on with his life as he had known it― with both parents answering every beck and call and all of his Slytherin classmates competing to be in his good graces.

But there was no getting out. Draco was trapped, and he knew it. When Lucius was arrested, Draco really began to understand what kind of Master they served. He finally understood that his entire family was disposable. Everyone was. He spent an entire two days searching for a way out, thinking through every possible strategy in his mind. But as far as he could tell, there was no avoiding his fate. No matter how far they went, the Dark Lord would be able to trace them, and if caught, they would only be lucky if they ended up dead.

So the summer before sixth year, he took the Dark Mark. He boasted and dropped hints to all of his supposed friends only because he had been ordered to. It was a recruitment tactic, in a way. The Dark Lord had ordered him to use his status with the Slytherins as a weapon, ensuring that he was left alone and esteemed so that they envied his glory and steered clear so he could finish his task. He was to use whatever means necessary, and he was to make sure that they knew what an honor the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him. The sad part was that they bought it, every single one of them. They all envied him more than they would ever admit, all fighting with each other in order to get closest to him. They thought that if they impressed Draco, he would pass on a good message to the Dark Lord or some rubbish like that. They needn't have bothered. The Dark Lord knew everything. He could tell if they were servant material with one look. But he wasn't about to tell _them_ that. There had to be some benefits to being the only Death Eater student at Hogwarts, and he was going to reap his reward.

He had no idea how difficult it would be to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. When the assignment was given him, the Dark Lord explained it as if it would be a simple 'reparo.' And perhaps it would have been for the Dark Lord, but there was much more to the cabinet than that, and Draco had no experience in repairing such things.

It had been the worst months his aristocratic self had yet faced. The pressure was unbelievable. He was constantly in fear that the Dark Lord would get impatient and just off him and his family. Perhaps if he had actually been thinking clearly he would have been able to repair the cabinet much sooner. But he was terrified out of his mind, and he didn't really want to unleash Death Eaters on his classmates as it was anyways. True, he did think he was better than them all, but did they really deserve to be attacked, tortured, taunted, and killed by his 'colleagues'? They would be put to much better use by serving him.

And then there was Part B to the assignment. If he actually successfully mended the Cabinet, he knew he would have to kill Dumbledore immediately after. Draco had always thought that he would be able to do whatever it took to defend his cause, even if it meant killing. But then when it came down to it, he knew he couldn't do it, and he didn't want to.

He wasn't sure if the reason why he didn't kill Dumbledore was because he was too weak to actually kill anyone or if he didn't actually believe in the cause anymore.

The old man wasn't even fighting him. It was like he too had seen into his soul, just like Voldemort. But rather mocking him and deeming him as unworthy, Dumbledore respected him for what he saw. He was offered protection, and a chance at life.

And damn it all, he was going to take it! He was going to start over and he was going to escape the Dark Lord! But then his charming aunt showed up and brought all the other idiots with her. Everything happened before he could wrap his mind around it, and suddenly he knew he had to race towards the one vile creature he never wanted to meet again ever in his existence or suffer much worse consequences. He didn't think it was possible, but he was even more terrified than he had been before. Punishment was guaranteed. He hadn't carried out his task as planned. The only questions were 'how long would the punishment last?' and 'would it result in death?' It wasn't fair. Someone had finally thrown him a lifeline, and just as soon as he had seen it and was ready to grab on it had been pulled away from him.

He was tortured for what seemed like years. In reality it had only been a week of torture from the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters coupled with imprisonment in the dungeons of his own Manor. When his punishment was finally over, life hardly seemed to improve. It was day after day of performing the most degrading of tasks, of watching strangers and people he knew tortured repeatedly and killed, of living every single second in darkness and dread.

Fortunately for him, he was able to leave the manor and return to Hogwarts for his seventh year. It was only a partial escape, for now things could never go back to the way they were before. The Carrows now taught at Hogwarts, and though they left him alone for the most part, they were a constant reminder of his service to the Dark Lord and his family's humiliation. All joy had been sucked out of the school. He had begun to harbor resentment towards his father during this time. It was his fault they had gotten into this position in the first place, his fault that they had all been so humiliated. Yet no matter how hard he tried, Draco couldn't find it in himself to hate his father. He hated only the Dark Lord.

But he feared the Dark Lord more than he hated him.

Perhaps one of the worst nights of his life took place when the Golden Trio had so foolishly been caught by snatchers during his Easter holiday. He hadn't realized it until the day they showed up in his house, but he was depending upon Potter to kill the cursed thing that had ruined his life. He attempted to keep their identities secret, but they had made it so completely obvious who they really were.

And then they had to go and find that bloody sword.

Her screams killed him. Never before in his life had he so desperately wished he wasn't such a coward. If only he were in Gryffindor, and then he would risk his life to make her stop screaming like that. It echoed within his soul, it shattered his heart into a million pieces, and all he wanted to do was curse his insane aunt and pull Granger into his protective arms. It was a bizarre impulse, and he wasn't sure where it came from. But he wanted her back then, he wanted to hold her and he wanted to protect her.

When Dobby showed up he had never been so glad to see the little elf in his entire life. His only regret was that he didn't leave with them. He so badly wanted to leave that cursed house and that cursed life. He wanted honor and freedom. He wanted friendship like they had. It seemed like they would do anything for each other. He hated it and envied it at the same time. It seemed so weak and pathetic in his eyes. But he often found himself wishing for someone to smile at him like Granger smiled at Potter. And he wished he had someone to protect, like Weasley tried to protect Granger.

He found himself wishing for that more and more after they left. It only increased his hatred for them. He hated them because they had always had everything he wanted and never had a chance to have. It was so unfair. He was rich enough to buy anything he wanted. They were poor as dirt compared to him. Yet he was the one wanting what they had.

The final battle finally came and went, and he was convinced that there was no way Potter could win. He tried to save his own arse instead. When everything _finally_ ended, he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that the Dark Lord was finally gone. Forever.

He was so relieved it was over, and hardly had any concern for what would happen now. Nothing could be worse than the last year of his life, not even Azkaban.

But somehow, in some way, he got off. Sure, he lost a good chunk of his inheritance thanks to the Ministry. But they had far more money than even the Ministry of Magic realized anyways, all stored away in hundreds of different banks in different countries. He and his family were alive, and none of them went to Azkaban.

It had been two years since the Final Battle. The wizarding world was still in shambles, and he could barely show his face in public without being scorned by every other person that walked by. His life consisted of complete and utter humiliation.

His parents moved to France, unable to stand the disgrace that they had become in Britain any longer. They were still recognized there for their misdeeds, but the wounds didn't run as deep in wizarding France as they did in wizarding Britain.

Draco refused to go with them. He wasn't really sure why, other than the fact that it seemed like such a coward's way out. It just felt wrong to leave. So he spent his days reading instead. The Ministry had turned the Manor upside down after the final battle, removing anything they deemed suspicious and not bothering to clean up after themselves. But the house elves had it cleaned up in a matter of days. Draco insisted that they always leave the curtains open, even at night. He wanted as much sunlight and moonlight to infiltrate the place as was physically possible. Sometimes certain memories made him feel like the place was _still_ so unbelievably filthy that he would get on his knees like a bloody house-elf himself and scrub the place. There was no longer a single trace of blood like there had been previously, but Draco remembered where every single drop had been.

The life he lived now was the life of an exile. He couldn't go anywhere without people recognizing him. And everyone who _did_ recognize him would either treat him with hatred and malice because he had been a Death Eater or they would esteem him and worship the ground he walked on for that very reason. He was equally disgusted with both responses. Since he had no real reason to leave the Manor anyways, he soon stopped forcing himself to deal with other people. Anything he wanted the house elves could get for him.

He passed his time trying to distract himself as best he could, spending hours upon hours with his nose in a book, living a thousand other lives instead of his own. Fortunately for him, the library in the Manor was huge, greater even than that of Hogwarts. He had plenty of reading material. He forced himself to read everything from history books to novels to boring books on potions or magical creatures. When he would finally run out of new books to read in the Manor (which wouldn't be for quite some time), he comforted himself by promising he would just buy more. He fully intended to pass the rest of his life that way, for he had long given up hope that he could ever find anything closer to contentment.

Unfortunately, reading was only _mostly_ successful in distracting himself from who he really was. His memories of the war were clear and strong. His nights were filled with nightmares replaying the scenes he had lived through over and over again. The loneliness and isolation that he lived in were only broken by occasional visits from his parents. But they had grown to loathe the manor that Draco had imprisoned himself within, so they didn't visit very often. Slowly he began talking to the house elves more and more. Mostly he would listen while they babbled on about the menial tasks that they did from day to day. Sometimes he would tell them about books he was reading, and a few times he even played around with the idea of teaching them how to read― something very few house elves had ever done. He still didn't view them as equals, but house elves were very forgiving towards their masters, and they were the only company that he had.

Occasionally, after particularly bad dreams, he would wake up and wonder if there was any truth to blood purity, if there was any real reason to condemn muggleborns and maybe even muggles. He had grown to so hate the Dark Lord that he began questioning every thing that he had ever said or taught. He could never come to any conclusions though. It was too confusing, he had been brainwashed for too long. He would quickly leave such thoughts by distracting himself with a good book.

And so the days and weeks went on with Draco hardly noticing their passing. He had stopped reading any news shortly after the war ended, so he had no idea what was going on in the world around him. He passed the two years since the war in self-imprisonment, isolation, and his mind so full of other peoples' stories in the books which he read that he was very little in reality.

He was just trying to find a shred of contentment in life, occasionally trying to decide where he stood on blood purity and house-elves and everything else under the sun when he received the owl from Hermione asking him to meet her. He was in for the shock of his life. Hearing from her was like waking up from a deep slumber that he had lived in for nearly two years.

He, a _Pureblood_, marry Hermione Granger, most exceptional mudblood that ever lived? If he were honest with himself, he would realize that he was not so upset at the fact that he had to marry Granger than he was at the fact that he was being forced to do something. He had a thing about control now, thanks to Voldemort. He detested people trying to control him, even if it was in the smallest of ways. But just as he recognized that there was no way out of serving the Dark Lord, he also realized there was no way out of marrying a mudblood. Besides, he hadn't yet decided muggleborns were such a bad thing anyways, and he had known all his life that he wouldn't marry for love.

No matter what, he knew the marriage could never be the worst thing he'd ever go through. That had already happened, and it would never happen again.

Yes, he was ready to rethink things. What he didn't want was Hermione trying to force her own beliefs on him. He had dealt with that all his life, and he didn't want it any longer.

When he couldn't handle reliving his past any longer he dismounted his broom and headed inside to find a distraction. As soon as he had stepped inside one of the elves handed him a letter from Pansy Parkinson. He was curious to see what she had to say considering they hadn't spoken since only a couple months after the war was over.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I'm afraid it's been far too long since last we spoke. There's a place in my heart that just can't be filled by anyone but you. _

_A few of the old gang are getting together tonight and we so hoped that you could come. We're meeting at my place at 8 o'clock this evening. Will you be able to make it? _

_Love,_

_Pansy_

Draco rolled his eyes as he finished the letter. He wondered if she actually thought he would think her sincere. Pansy couldn't give a rat's ass for him now, and neither could the rest of the 'old gang' for that matter. They were just curious to hear more about Granger. He thought he would go anyways, though. He was intrigued to see what all of _their_ lives looked like now that he was being forced to reenter society. He wrote her a brief note informing her that he would be there.

After the war there had been a lot of intense dislike directed toward his 'friends.' Pansy and Goyle bore the brunt of it. No one could forget that Pansy wanted to hand Potter over to Voldemort, or that Goyle had actually attempted it.

Most of his friends were lucky that they didn't actually bear a dark mark, otherwise he was certain that they would have been shipped to Azkaban immediately. The country didn't have much pity for them in general, not even for how young they were, thanks mostly to the dream team. Most felt that they were old enough to tell right from wrong, to make their own decisions. Draco wasn't sure if he quite agreed with that assessment. He sure as hell never had a choice.

Despite how 'close' they appeared to be in school, Draco ended up avoiding all of them after Voldemort was defeated, nevermind the fact that they were some of the only people who didn't absolutely hate him. But they were a reminder to him of his previous life, and he couldn't bear the reminder of what he had lost and what he had done. And it was easy to cut off their friendship when he completely cut himself off from the rest of the world. It didn't take long before they stopped sending him letters that he never returned, and the only people who weren't blocked from his floo system were his parents.

Now that he had been awoken from his deep sleep, Draco wanted to find out if the rest of wizarding Britain hated them as much as they hated _him._

He showed up at Pansy's house exactly five minutes after eight, just as he had planned. When the house elf ushered him into the room they were all gathered in he was greeted with false warmth and friendliness. He could tell they weren't entirely sure how to act around him. It seemed like it had been decades since they had led relatively normal lives as classmates at Hogwarts.

He wasn't altogether surprised to find Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He figured that these six probably spent quite a lot of time together now.

The conversation was rather tense. They were sizing him up now just as much as he had been sizing them up. The dynamics of the room were interesting as well. If Draco had to guess, he'd say that Daphne was interested in Zabini while Davis took a preference to Nott. When he had first walked into the room, it took a moment before they had noticed him. They were all paying close attention to something Nott was saying. He wondered if maybe Nott had replaced him as Leader. But as soon as Pansy had noticed him, all attention was directed solely at _him_. They had subconsciously fallen into the same respect and attention for Draco that they had always harbored.

"We were so surprised to hear about your awful fate with Granger!" Pansy said. "You poor thing, you must be terribly distraught over it."

Draco wasn't entirely sure what to say. Now that she mentioned it, he realized he wasn't as near as distraught as one would have thought he would be. "Yes, it's probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me." If anyone picked up on his sarcasm they didn't say anything.

"I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now, Draco," Pansy continued.

"I'm sure I'll manage," he replied. "And anyways, you'll all have your own marriages to lament over soon enough. Don't you bother yourselves worrying about mine."

Pansy didn't seem to pick up the hint that he didn't really want to talk about it.

"I mean, of all the people you're being forced to marry, it's that mudblood Granger. She'll probably want to free all your house-elves and give all your money away to charity funds."

"Yes, most unfortunate."

Pansy babbled on for quite a while about Draco's great misfortunes. He had quickly discovered that he needn't bother responding. She really only wanted to hear her own voice. Everyone except for Pansy and Goyle, he could tell, were watching for his responses. They were curious to see what he _really_ thought about it, but none of them were quite brave enough to come right out and ask him yet. They wanted more of an indication of where he stood before they took such a risk.

"So, tell me," Draco began as soon as Pansy paused for breath, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn't a care in the world, "what have you lot been up to since I saw you last?"

Draco soon discovered that every single one of them had become outcasts of society. He gathered that they really did only have each other for company. All but Goyle had gone back to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year, but had been unsuccessful in finding any work since then. They had all maintained a certain amount of their fortunes invested in various places, and so the situation wasn't dire quite yet, but they ran the risk of being _completely_ humbled if circumstances didn't change yet. Fortunately for them they weren't quite as famous as the Malfoy heir, so they could go shopping in Diagon Alley without being turned out of shops, but any job interviews and potential relationships never had any pleasing results.

Zabini was considering moving to Italy. His mother had taught him Italian when he was just a child, so he was certain he could learn to blend in with the wizards there without struggling so much with the reputation that he had in England. Others who _didn't_ speak another language were considering moving to North America. Of course, the countries _knew_ about the war with Voldemort, but they hadn't been as affected by it. Perhaps they could finally start with a clean slate like they had been longing to for so many years. But the announcement of the marriage law changed any of the plans they had been making. They wouldn't be able to escape a spouse even if they _did_ flee the country.

Apart from Pansy calling Granger a 'mudblood,' there wasn't anything else to indicate whether or not they had changed their views on blood purity. He supposed it didn't matter, since all their children would be half-bloods anyways, but he _had_ been curious to see if any of them had dealt with all of the same self-doubts that had been plaguing him for the last two and a half years.

Sure enough, an hour after Draco had arrived, Greengrass stood up and made some pathetic excuse about why she needed to leave. Her real reasons for disappearing were made obvious when not ten minutes later Zabini also stood up, saying something about how he promised his mother he would be home by a certain time. They all knew his mother couldn't care less when or if he returned, and Zabini certainly wouldn't have made sure to be home by a certain time even if she _did _care. He had a rendezvous with Greengrass.

Draco briefly wondered if they had planned their hook up before the party or during. Had he lost his touch that much that he hadn't even noticed the two secretly communicating?

No, they had clearly planned it beforehand. This little affair must be stronger than he had thought. But then, why bother keeping it from the rest of the group?

He was drawn from his thoughts when he noticed Goyle's poorly masked emotions. He looked cross for some reason. Before he could look into the matter anymore Nott started talking to him about some quidditch match while Pansy and Tracey started talking about wedding plans. He wanted to roll his eyes at them. They hadn't even been matched yet. How could they possibly be excited about planning a wedding when they were about to be thrust into a lifelong imprisonment with someone they probably wouldn't even like?

Goyle stood up now, mumbling something. All Draco could catch was, 'leave,' 'have to,' and 'later.' What on _earth_ was going on?

Davis and Nott stood up too, and Malfoy made to follow. He was not about to be left here alone with Pansy. Who knew what the lunatic could do?

"Drakey, stay for just a bit longer," Pansy cooed. "It's been so long."

He didn't want to appear rude, but he really didn't want to stay either. He hesitated.

"Just one more drink, Drakey, that's all," she said. He sat down reluctantly and watched Nott and Davis walk out of the room as if they were his last lifeline abandoning him. Pansy grabbed another two butterbeers before sitting down on the couch and handing him one. He briefly wondered if he could check it for deathly poisons, or even _worse_―love spells, without offending her. Probably not. He would have to do a nonverbal spell and hope she didn't see.

"So what's up, Pansy?" he asked, knowing full well she had to have a reason for making him stay after everyone else left. He casually stuck his hand into his pocket and grabbed his wand.

"Nothing," she said innocently, "I just want to talk."

"About anything in particular?" He said the incantation in his mind, checking to see if it had worked. It glowed bright blue for a moment. Luckily Pansy didn't notice. He took a sip, feeling a lot more thirsty once he realized he wasn't being poisoned.

"Can't a girl just want to catch up with an old friend?"

"I believe that's what we've been doing for the past―" he checked his watch "―hour and a half."

"You're always so suspicious, Draco," Pansy said, a bit of a whine in her voice. "Why do you think I'm always trying to pull one over on you?"

"We're Slytherins, Pansy," he replied. "It's what we do. One of us schemes, and the other attempts to figure out the scheme and plan something worse instead."

"True enough," she condeded, then a bit of a smile wound its way onto her face. "Remember when Nott tried to give you a love potion that would make you fall in love with Millicent?"

Draco smirked at the memory. "Yes, only Snape had just taught me how to do the spell to check for a tampered drink, so I caught on."

Pansy laughed. "I still can't believe he didn't notice when you swapped drinks with him. It was right under his nose."

"He didn't leave Millie alone for a week."

"And ended up in the Hospital Wing when she broke his nose."

"Everyone knows it's a bad idea to follow her around all the time. The girl likes her space."

Pansy laughed again. "Pity too, because they could have made such a nice couple."

Draco was surprised at how easy this was, talking to Pansy. He had thought that things would still be strained and difficult.

"Speaking of couples," he began. "Zabini and Greengrass are together, huh?"

Pansy shook her head, smiling a little. "You don't miss a thing, do you, Draco?"

"Guess not," he replied, feeling a little smug. "So how long has this been going on? And why are they trying to keep it a secret?"

Pansy sighed. "Greengrass is supposed to be betrothed to Goyle. Their parents made an agreement as soon as they realized you weren't coming back into the picture."

"Oh," he said, feeling the weight of their twisted lives fall onto his shoulders again. "I see."

"Daphne wasn't too happy about it, obviously, but Greg didn't seem to mind. I think it was all his idea, actually. He's fancied her for years. She said that when their parents announced the betrothal to them he didn't seem too surprised."

"So did Zabini happen before or after the betrothal was announced?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure about that one. If it was before, it couldn't have been long."

"And Goyle's too afraid of Zabini to do anything, I assume?"

Pansy sighed. "Yes. Goyle's not the brightest, but he knows what's going on. He could take Zabini without wands any day... but that's not likely to happen, so he just pretends to be ignorant."

Draco felt pity for his old chum for the first time in years. "It's all going to change soon, anyways," he said bitterly. "They'll all get matched with someone else. The ministry doesn't care who's in love with who."

He took another swig of his drink. He could feel Pansy's eyes on him, but he didn't want to look up and meet them. He knew they would be filled with pity, and he didn't want to deal with those kinds of emotions.

"Is it awful?" she asked suddenly. He looked up to see her face taught with anxiety.

"Is what awful?" he asked.

"Being stuck to a Gryffindor. Having to deal with them all the time, knowing that they hate you."

He looked down at his hands, wishing he could say something to make her realize the situation wasn't as bad as she thought.

"Dunno," he replied honestly. "I haven't been around any of them except her yet."

"Does she lord it over you? You know, about the war and stuff?" Pansy asked. He could tell she was worried about who she'd get stuck with, worried that her husband would absolutely hate her guts. There was a good chance her fears would come true, he grimly acknowledged to himself.

"Yeah, a bit," he replied honestly. "But not as much as I expected her to."

"I'm scared, Draco," Pansy whispered.

"I―" he began, wanting to say something comforting, but he couldn't think of anything. "I don't know what to say, Pans."

Pansy cast a nervous glance at him before looking down at her hands again and licking her lips. "We could―" she began, looking back up at him nervously.

"Could what, Pansy?" he asked suspiciously.

Her eyes searched the room for a moment, clearly searching for something to help her make her decision, to give her bravery. Suddenly she gushed out, "I know you don't really like me that way, Draco, and probably you never have. But what if we got married before the Ministry―"

"Pansy, we can't―"

"No listen, Draco. I'm not asking for an actual relationship or anything. We both knew we'd never marry for love. But at least I'm better than Granger, right? At least we've been friends, and sort of understand each other, and came from the same type of background. I mean, things wouldn't be perfect, but it's got to be better than marrying who the Ministry matches us up with, right? Just think about it, Draco. That way we could be married to someone who doesn't hate us."

Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Truth be told, he already _had_ thought about it, back in Granger's office when she had first told him of the Ministry's plans. Apparently he wasn't the only one who considered the possibility either.

"Pansy, I wish it could be that easy," he said looking up at her. She was nervous, afraid of rejection.

"I see," she replied curtly. "You always have liked the intelligent girls, Draco, and we both know that I've got nothing on Granger when it comes to that," she said, looking a bit defeated.

Draco sighed again. "No, it's not that Pansy. The Ministry's told me they'll snap my wand and annul the wedding if I try to marry someone else. It wouldn't do us any good to try."

"Oh," Pansy said, looking a bit relieved. "Well it was worth a shot to ask, hm?"

"Yeah..." he agreed, not looking in her eye. He was a little bit relieved that his only answer could be no. There was no way he was going to be stuck to Pansy the rest of his life, and trying to explain that to her without having a legitimate excuse would have been a disaster.

"Listen, Pansy," he began, trying to figure out how to comfort without giving any false hope. "It may not be as bad as you think. Maybe you'll get matched with a decent bloke who will give you a chance, like a Hufflepuff or something."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, no one wants to give someone like me a chance. Everyone who wasn't in Slytherin hates my guts. No man even wants to be in the same restaurant as me, let alone be married to me. No one's forgotten..." she trailed off.

No one's forgotten the war, forgotten how they literally tortured their classmates under the rule of the Carrows, how Pansy excelled at finding out people's most humiliating secrets and then displaying them for the whole world to see, how Pansy only cared about herself...

"I wish I could help, Pansy," he said, feeling useless. He knew he couldn't do anything, but he wanted to fix the problem anyways. They had grown up together. She didn't deserve to be put into a marriage with someone who hated her. At least Granger was willing to try to cooperate. "I'm really sorry."

"No it's―" _fine_? It wasn't fine. "It's... it's life. I deserve it right?" she asked, her eyes glistening. "I mean," she continued before he had a chance to say anything, her voice rising because of her unshed tears, "I really _was_ awful to everyone. If I were them, I'd want revenge." The tears slid down her cheeks.

Draco didn't know what to think. Was Pansy... was she _remorseful_? He had figured none of them would have felt like him, but mabye... Maybe the war had changed them like it had changed him too.

"It's probably a good thing then, Pans, that you probably won't marry a Slytherin."

Pansy looked at him, confused. "Why's that?"

"Because the other houses are rubbish at revenge. You'll be able to see right through them."

She cracked a small smile, despite herself, and wiped the tears from her face. "I hope you're right, Draco."

"Me too."

She smiled again, though it held a note of bitterness. "I really have missed you, Draco. We all kind of have. You abandoned us when we needed you the most."

Draco looked at his hands again, the unfamiliar feeling of guilt in his chest. "Pansy, I―" What was he going to say? How could he have possibly finished that sentence? How could he explain why he did what he did? And since when had Pansy ever been so open?

"I know," she said. He looked up at her and could tell that she really did know. "I wanted to leave too sometimes. But we need each other. The whole lone wolf thing doesn't actually work in real life."

"Yeah, maybe," he said, disbelieving. Sure he had been miserable and lonely, but from what it sounded like, the rest of them hadn't been faring too much better. What did she want from him? If she was expecting him to get all chummy with her again all of a sudden then she had another thing coming. "Look, I need to go."

"I thought you might say that."

"What, so are you the Draco Malfoy expert all of a sudden?" he asked, annoyed.

"No," Pansy said, shaking her head sadly. "No, it's just that you've never wanted to talk about things like this. It's too personal for a lone wolf like you."

He looked at her, a little bit confused. He honestly didn't remember being in situations like this with Pansy before. But then again, he spent most of his time trying _not_ to remember his entire life, so he should feel glad that he was starting to succeed.

"Granger's a lucky girl," she said. "I hope she has more luck getting you to crack than I have."

"Doubtful," Draco mumbled as he stood up. She followed him to the fireplace. "Maybe I'll see you around, Pansy."

"Yeah, see you around, Draco."

They both knew he had no intention of seeing her anytime soon.

"Make sure I'm invited to the wedding," she added as an afterthought.

"Sure," he replied. "See you, Pans," he said, and then he was gone.

Pansy stood there staring at the place where he had disappeared for several more minutes. She wasn't in love with him anymore, not like she had been at Hogwarts. But he had been her first love, and the man she compared everyone else to. She had just spent several hours with him, but she felt like she hadn't, really. She felt like he had died the day he received the dark mark, and she couldn't help but grieve his death.

When Draco went home he considered the possibility of seeing them again for a moment. It was nice to break up the isolation he lived in, but he couldn't necessarily say he _enjoyed_ their company either. There was no camaraderie, no lightness of heart, nothing _pleasant_ about their gathering. They were all changed people, having been forced to participate in the wrong side of the war and coming out of it humiliated and hated. Not only did they have the scars from the past (though none as deep as his own), but the future looked bleak. Draco cursed the gods, cursed destiny, cursed fate... cursed whatever he could think of that might be out there that had put them all exactly where they were. He longed for the innocence and happiness they had as children. He longed for a sliver of hope that maybe things could get better. But he didn't really dare let himself hope, not for himself and not for his old classmates. All hopes he had ever harbored had been crushed too many times for that.

He lounged on the sofa in his bedroom for a while, thinking about the reunion with old mates and wondering about their fates. It wasn't long before his thoughts strayed to Hermione again.

He was torn about how he should feel about her, about their marriage. Why _should _he hate her apart from the fact that she was muggleborn? He thought back to the days of Hogwarts and all the run-ins he had with the trio. Granger could definitely hold her own when she wanted to. But now he thought of it, usually she was the one trying to keep the peace. She rarely rose to his bait, and oftentimes would attempt to forcibly drag Potter and Weasley away from him. Granger, unlike Potter and Weasley, never started the fights, and rarely participated in them. She was always just... there. And perhaps he always teased her so badly because he _wanted_ to get a reaction from her. He couldn't be sure. But her icy aloofness bothered him. She was supposed to be below him, and yet very few people could make him feel so small as Granger did. No, he didn't really have any reason to hate her apart from her blood status, unless he was motivated to hate her out of jealousy.

Malfoy thought about all the other female muggleborns and half-bloods in their year he could have been paired up with. They all seemed useless, boring, and rather pathetic compared to Granger. Every girl he could think of paled in comparison to her. As time went on, he began to realize that though he wasn't terribly fond of being forced into marrying someone, he was glad at least it was Granger, though it would take a lot of pain and coercion to get him to admit that fact to anybody.

It was difficult admitting this to himself. He was still a bit put off when he thought about her lively hair, giant teeth, and know-it-all attitude. Although... now he thought of it...

He pictured the Granger that he had seen just the other day. He hadn't completely noticed before, but her teeth didn't seem so large anymore, and her hair, though still curly and anything but limp, didn't seem to resemble a furry animal so much. Her image swirled around in his mind, and he realized that her face was soft and almost lovely, her eyes dark and always full of emotions, and her hair fell in wild chocolate ringlets down her back. Now he thought about it, if he hadn't known Granger at Hogwarts and had only just seen her on the street... Suffice it to say that his head probably would have turned.


	5. Sentimentality

A/N: Thank you all for your encouragement. It's a lot easier to keep writing and editing when I know that there's at least a few people who actually care about reading it. :) I have a good chunk of the story written so far, but it's all still very rough, so I certainly won't be updating every day. Constructive criticism would certainly be appreciative if you have the time, means, and desire. Happy Monday!

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><p>"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as soon as Malfoy had appeared in her flat.<p>

Draco shook his head at her. "You should know better than to ask that question, Granger."

"I hate surprises, Malfoy!"

"Yes, I know that!"

"How am I supposed to know what to wear if I don't know where we're going?"

"You look fine, now let's go!"

"But―"

"If you come with me now I'll tell you in advance about the next date," he bribed.

"Oh, fine!" She said impatiently, walking over to him and putting her hand in the crook of his arm. A moment later Hermione blinked as she took in the familiar sights of Hogsmeade.

"Please tell me we're not going to Madam Puddifoot's," Hermione said.

"_Merlin _no!" Draco said insistently. "That place is a hell-hole."

"Oh good," Hermione said, visibly looking relieved. "I hate it too."

"How odd," Malfoy speculated, looking at her as if he had noticed her for the first time. "We agree on something."

"Yes," Hermione said, looking a bit taken aback. "It is peculiar. We can pretend it never happened."

"Okay, good idea."

They walked down the street together, Hermione's hand still in the crook of Draco's arm. She had a feeling they might develop a bit of a routine with that. It made them look like enough of a couple to please the media and the Ministry, but it didn't feel as intimate as holding hands. Hermione's thoughts drifted to the fact that simply holding hands was such an intimate act. She had never thought of it as such before, but when she considered the possibility of holding hands with Draco, she felt a little uncomfortable. It would be like holding hands with a complete stranger.

Now she thought of it, Draco _did _ seem to her more like a stranger than her childhood rival. When they got past their history from their childhood and each other's parts in the war, they knew hardly anything about each other.

Before she knew it they were walking into the Three Broomsticks and Draco was walking away to order for them. Hermione thought back to the night before. There had been a family get-together at the Burrow. The immediate family was so large that it felt more like a big party than a little get-together. She was nearly positive that every single person there had asked her when the big date was. She hadn't given it a lot of thought, but she figured they should probably plan it out. She would ask Draco about it tonight.

"Thanks for dinner, Malfoy," she said as he walked back and slid into the seat across from her, looking a bit as if she had swallowed something distasteful.

"My pleasure," he replied, but the sneer on his face informed her that it was anything but. "You're going to have to start calling me something else or pretty soon people will start thinking you're talking to yourself."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Hermione said. "But what would I call you?"

"You could try my name."

"Oh." Hermione paused for a moment, then said, "But once we're married you won't be able to call me Granger anymore either."

"Hmm," Draco said, taking a sip of his butterbeer and looking thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose I'll have to call you _Mrs. Malfoy_." He sneered again.

Hermione nearly spat out the warm liquid in her mouth. It was logical that she _was_ going to be a Mrs. Malfoy if she were married to him, but actually voicing it at the present moment was a little too much to bear.

"On second thought, I think I'd rather keep my maiden name."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said," he replied calmly, his eyes hard as steel.

"You don't get to just _control_ everything I do now, Malfoy," Hermione responded, trying to keep her voice down despite the fact that her ire was raising every second.

"I'm not budging on this issue," he said firmly.

"It's not up to you."

"We'll see," he said, confidently. Hermione wondered how he could possibly think that he had a say in the matter, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to find out.

"Why do you want me to go by 'Malfoy' anyways? We both know all I'm going to do is go running around _sullying_ the perfect Malfoy reputation."

His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, but that was the only sign that showed Hermione how much she had angered him. Before he could respond a reporter had rushed up to them and began taking pictures. Madam Rosmerta had dealt with the matter quickly and they were soon left in peace, but neither one of them had wanted to broach the topic again, feeling entirely certain that they would have plenty of opportunity to argue over it in the future.

"There's an issue we need to resolve," he said.

"What might that be?" she asked, not really sure she wanted to hear his answer. They had plenty of issues with each other.

"I figured that if this betrothal thing is actually real, you ought to have a ring."

"Oh."

"Full of eloquence tonight, I see."

She ignored his last comment. It seemed she had been doing that a lot recently... ignoring things he said. "Do you have it with you? Can I see it?" she asked, curious to see what type of ring he might pick out.

"No," he replied slowly. "I thought you might like to pick it out yourself."

Hermione was surprised by his thoughtfulness. Truth be told, she hadn't even thought about a ring yet. The whole betrothal was so rushed and unexpected it was all she could do to keep up.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, sincerity in her voice and in her eyes. "That's really nice of you." She was surprised that he was so completely spot on. She would much rather have picked out the ring herself than had it chosen for her. _She_ would have to look at it every day for the rest of her life, after all.

"Don't be too touched," he said, unsure how to handle the unusual compliment. "I'm just able to read your control-freak tendencies really well. That and I didn't want to waste any more time on you than I already have to."

"Prat."

"Again, full of eloquence."

"I'm ignoring that statement," she informed him. "Are we going to go to a jewelry shoppe then?"

"We could if you want," he replied, shifting in his seat a bit. "I'd like it if you looked at the rings in the Manor first. There's some really beautiful ones. You might like them."

"Will they curse me?" she asked. It was a relevant question.

"I wouldn't risk putting one on your finger without sending it somewhere to be checked first, honestly," he said. "But a lot of them are goblin made and have really fascinating magical properties. I'm sure it's worth a look."

"I think I might like that," she said tentatively. And it was true. Old magical objects really did intrigue her, and she had always preferred antique jewelry to modern. Although, she couldn't help but think of the last antique ring she had come in contact with.

"There's another thing I've been wondering," he said. Hermione read his face for a moment, trying to figure out what he was thinking and feeling. She thought she might have spotted a bit of nervousness, but she really couldn't be sure.

"Yes?"

"If we're really going to redecorate the Manor before you move in, we should probably get started soon."

"Oh," she replied, a sinking feeling entering her chest. "Right."

She really, _really_ didn't want to go back there. She felt sure that there could be nothing good in Malfoy Manor.

"If you'd like I can set up an appointment with an interior designer," he suggested. He felt a twinge of regret at making her do something she so obviously dreaded, but he wasn't willing to back down on this subject. He _would_ live in Malfoy Manor. And he _wasn't _ going to live there unless it looked like a completely different place from when it did when the Dark Lord lived there.

"Yes, that would be good," she said.

"Is there a day that's good for you?" he asked.

Hermione thought about saying no, and telling him that there would never be a good day to go to the Manor for as long as she lived. But then she supposed that it was better to get it over with. At least he was asking her instead of just telling her. Perhaps if she was lucky then the interior designer would be a control freak too and she would have very little to do with the process.

"How about tomorrow?" she said, thinking she'd prefer to get it over with sooner rather than later, and if she did it on a Saturday she could go while there was still daylight. "At three o'clock?"

"It's a date."

"No it's not," she said adamantly.

"Look," Draco began, "You're going to have to get used to the idea of dating me eventually. We're getting married soon."

"I am used to the idea, sort of," Hermione insisted. "But _that _can't be a date because you promised to inform me ahead of time for the next one and I refuse to let you get off so easily."

The corners of Draco's lips twitched. It was the closest thing to a genuine smile she had ever seen on him and a sense of pride welled up in her chest.

"You're absolutely bonkers," he said. She gave him another insistent glare. "Alright, alright. It's not a date, then. It's just a romantic rendezvous in my home."

Hermione blushed at the implication and Draco shook his head at her, amazed by her naiveté.

They finished their meal and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, taking a stroll through Hogsmeade so the reporters could get their fill in pictures for a few days. It seemed that every other person they walked by either snapped a photo or sent death glares at Malfoy. She knew he wasn't popular, but she hadn't realized that people were this open about their dislike for him. She brushed it off without thinking about it too much. She had walked by Harry's side while everyone sent glares his way before too, and she was too used to it to be thrown off guard.

Without warning, Draco placed another hand on top of the one Hermione had in her usual place and disapparated them only to reappear in Hermione's flat. She pulled away from him instantly and hit him across the shoulder with her bag.

"Would you give me a bit of warning before you do that, Malfoy?" she said angrily.

"Come on, Granger. Live a little," he said. "And anyhow, I thought we decided you couldn't call me that."

"Fine, _Mister Malfoy!" _she said, refusing to use his first name quite yet. She knew it was terribly immature of her, but she _hated_ side-along apparition, and she hated it even more when she didn't have a little bit of warning.

"_Miss Granger,_" he said, mimicking her childish tone. She crossed her arms and huffed.

"Well, I'll just be going then," he said, turning towards the fire place to floo home.

"Wait," she said. He turned around slowly, smirking at her.

"Need a goodnight kiss, Granger?" he asked, taking a step towards her. "Or perhaps you're wanting something _more," _he said, waggling his eyebrows.

The only acknowledgement she gave to his comment was to cross her arms further around her chest. "We need to pick a date for the wedding. Everyone keeps asking me about it."

"Oh," he said. "Right." Clearly he hadn't yet thought about it either.

"According to the Ministry's stipulations we'll have to be married by the second week of May."

"Okay, should we set the date for May the fourteenth then?"

"I was thinking we might pick something a bit more... symbolic."

"What did you have in mind?" Draco asked, not sure where she was going with this.

"May the second," she said. Comprehension dawned on his features.

"The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts," he said.

She nodded once.

"It seems fitting," he said, thinking for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want your last two weeks of freedom?"

"What's a fortnight, really, in the grand scheme of things?"

"I suppose you're right," he responded, then added, "The presses are going to go wild with mushy sentimentality."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "But at least they'll be going wild with something that's on our own terms."

"Too true you are. It's a date then!"

"You use that term way too much."

"I enjoy the irony in it. See you tomorrow, then." And before she could say another word he was gone.

Hermione went into her bedroom and changed into more comfortable clothes again, just as she had after the last date. Instead of pulling over a book, however, she prepared two cups of tea and waited for Ginny to arrive. They hadn't made any plans, but Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to stay away.

Within moments, just as Hermione predicted, she heard a 'pop!' in her bedroom.

"You can come out, Ginny!"

"Oh, hello Hermione," she said cheerfully. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Indeed." What else could she say, really? Of course she'd be here, it was her own flat.

"Mmm," Ginny said, spotting her tea and taking a sniff. "Earl Gray, just how I like it!"

"So how was training today?" Hermione asked. Ginny was playing for the Holyhead Harpies.

"Delightful! How was your date?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"We're not going to live forever, Hermione!" Ginny reminded her. "Now spill."

"It went well, I suppose..." Hermione began. She hadn't really had time to process it herself yet. "We discussed a few important things."

"Ooh, like what?" Ginny asked enthusiastically, leaning forward.

"We've set a date for the wedding," Hermione informed her.

"_Finally!_ When is it?"

"May the second."

"How..." Ginny began, gazing off into space for a moment, "...romantic!"

"Romantic?"

"Yes, O Eloquent One! Romantic!"

"I should have known you'd get all... sentimentally mushy on me, Ginny," Hermione said, a tiny bit bitter that Ginny had told her the same thing Draco had earlier about being eloquent.

"Hermione Granger, you wouldn't know romance if it bit you on the arse!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is," Ginny insisted. "I'd even bet that Malfoy is more romantic than you!"

"Malfoy? Romantic?" Hermione said, trying to wrap her brain around it. "Those two things don't seem to fit, Ginny."

"Yes they do. But never mind that for now, tell me more."

Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to bring up the ring if Ginny thought their _wedding date_ was romantic. But then, Ginny would have to find out eventually, wouldn't she?

"Well he brought up an engagement ring," she said reluctantly.

"Oh! Is he going to buy you one?"

"Well, no..." Hermione said a bit cryptically. "Probably not."

Hermione spent the rest of her evening flabbergasted as Ginny commented on every little detail she could get out of her. She was constantly asking questions about Draco's motives, making reflections about how she thought certain things he said or did portrayed a softer side of him.

"I don't know, Gin," Hermione finally said. "I'd love to believe that it's romantic and sentimental and all that, but... I just don't know. He's always so cryptic and mysterious and I don't even know if he still thinks I'm the scum of the earth because of my blood or not!"

"You have to admit that mystery makes a man extremely attractive," Ginny said, choosing to pick out that one word to build her argument on.

"Not if it's a mystery of whether or not he's going to kill me some day!"

"Whatever you say, Hermione," Ginny smiled. "Anyways, I've been wondering... what do your parents think of all this?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet," Hermione began, squirming a little with guilt.

"You haven't told them yet?"

"I haven't exactly figured out _how_ to..." Hermione began. Ginny nodded in understanding. "If I tell them what is _really_ going on, they'll be furious. They're still a little bit sensitive about the whole war and them going to Australia with their memories erased."

"But it was for their own safety! They would have been killed if they stayed!"

"I know, Gin. You're preaching to the choir. And they understand to an extent too. But they're not exactly pleased with the wizarding world in general right now. If they find out I'm being forced into a lifelong marriage with a man that fought on the other side of the war and tormented me all through school... I'm afraid they'll go off the deep end."

"Yes, you're probably right," Ginny conceded, biting her lip as she tried to think of a solution.

"But I don't want to lie to them either," Hermione said, wringing her hands in her lap. "That's not fair to them. But at the same time, I don't think they'll ever understand."

"That's a tough one, Hermione," Ginny began. "Maybe you can settle on some kind of half truth. Perhaps you can tell them that it's an arranged marriage, but make them think that you and Malfoy actually get along okay. Probably then they wouldn't think it's so bad."

"That's a good idea. I can always just leave certain information out while not being _totally_ dishonest."

"I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Hermione. You always do."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said, smiling at her ever-supportive friend.

"I should go. I have a long day tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Bye!"

Ginny left Hermione with her own thoughts and feelings to sort through. What _wa_s she going to tell her parents? And most importantly, what was life going to be like with Malfoy? If she were completely honest, she would admit that Ginny might be on to something. But then... Draco Malfoy had been a very bad person for most of his life. How could she trust him?

Her stomach swirled around as she thought about that smirk she was growing to almost like and how he had put so much thought into her ring. He was so different than any man Hermione had ever experienced. Harry and Ron were always so easy to read. She _always_ knew what they were feeling. And they would have never put that much thought into something as insignificant as an engagement ring. Most likely Harry had already gone to a store and picked out the biggest, prettiest one he saw for Ginny. And goodness knows how Ron was going to survive in marriage. He seemed to be physically incapable of so much thought. Which was one of the many reasons why they ended up breaking it off. Ron was comfortable, and sweet, and genuine. But deep down, Hermione wanted something more. She wasn't ready to settle down yet, and she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in the comfortable routine that they had already established.

Hermione thought about how she had to go to Malfoy Manor in the next day. She dreaded it. She dreaded it with every fiber of her being. Sure she was a Gryffindor, but she still didn't feel quite ready to face her fears. She still had nightmares about being tortured by Bellatrix in the drawing room. It was one of the very worst moments of that entire year, and that said a lot.

But Gryffindor she was, and she wasn't about to back down.


	6. Flashbacks

February 14th― 77 Days Until Wedlock

The next morning, when Hermione wasn't concentrating about _not _panicking about the Manor, she kept thinking about her parents. She had been avoiding them for the last several days since she had found out about the marriage. She still wasn't entirely sure how to handle the situation, and she dreaded how it might make them feel. They probably wouldn't understand why she would choose an unwanted marriage over leaving the magical world. She grew up as a muggle, surely she could continue as one? Should she tell them everything? Would it be lying if she didn't? What should she leave out?

In the end Hermione decided to go with Ginny's advice. She would tell them _mostly_ the truth, and perhaps downplay her and Draco's history. Her parents knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't just jump into a marriage like this. Taking a deep breath to work up the resolution, she picked up her phone and called over to their house.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mum," Hermione said with a small smile.

"Oh hi, Sweetheart!" her mother replied cheerfully. "Your father and I were just talking about how we haven't heard from you in a while! How is everything?"

"Everything's great, Mum," she lied. "I was wondering if you were both busy this morning? Maybe I could come over for a little while."

"Oh that would be wonderful, Hermione!" she said enthusiastically. "We've really missed you around here. Come on over as soon as you're ready."

"Okay, see you soon," she replied, hanging up and biting back the guilt. She really _should_ spend more time with them. It was difficult having more than one family. She needed to learn how to better balance her time with her muggle family and her time with her magical family. She had gotten so used to not seeing them over the years that it was so easy to forget to make time for them.

Before heading over she decided to change into some muggle clothes. If she wanted this to go off well, she needed to be a bit strategic, and perhaps if she didn't look so much like a witch her parents wouldn't _feel_ like they were losing her as much.

She apparated directly into the living room where her father was watching television.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted.

"Hi, honey," he said warmly, standing up to give her a hug. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing very well," Hermione replied, hoping he wouldn't see through the lie. _Lull them into security, Hermione. You can do this._ "How are you?"

It wasn't much later that she was sitting on the sofa next to her mother while her dad sat in the chair across from them.

"Well," Hermione began, "I have some news for you."

"Some news?" her mother asked. "Is everything okay?" Even her parents had learned to brace themselves for the worst when receiving news from the wizarding world. "No one's died? Been arrested?"

"No, nothing like that, Mum. Everyone's fine."

"Well what is it?" her father asked.

"I'm getting married," she blurted out. _Oops._ She hadn't quite meant for it to come out like that. She had planned on explaining the difficulties their world was facing with birth rates and distrust and lead them up to it slowly.

"Married?" her mother laughed. "That's funny, Hermione! You're not even seeing anyone!"

Hermione sighed and looked down at her hands. "It's not a joke, Mum."

"Hermione that doesn't make sense. Be serious," her father said.

"I am serious," she said. This wasn't going how she had planned it at all. "His name is Draco Malfoy. He was in my year at Hogwarts."

"How long have you been seeing him?" her mother asked, wondering why Hermione would hide this from them.

"I haven't been seeing him, exactly," she said cryptically.

"Are you pregnant?" her dad burst out suddenly. Apparently it was the only explanation for such a sudden marriage that he could think of.

"No, Dad!" She exclaimed, turning bright red. She had to resist the urge to add in a 'gross!' "We haven't even... done that," she finished awkwardly.

"Then why are you getting married? I don't understand!"

"There's a new marriage law in the wizarding world. To prevent more prejudice they're having Purebloods marry Muggleborns."

"That's absurd, Hermione! You can't go along with it. And who is this Mal... guy anyways?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," she said. "And I _am_ going along with it."

"How do I know he can take care of you? What does he do? Does he have a good job? Is he a decent bloke?"

"Well, he's the richest man in Britain..." she trailed off, scratching her neck. It was weird acknowldging that truth for some reason.

"Oh," he responded, a little stunned.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said.

"Alright then. But being rich doesn't mean he's good. Is he a good man?"

"I don't really know him that well," she responded half truthfully.

"I thought you went to school with him," her dad pointed out. It was going to be really difficult to fool him.

"We were in different houses," she explained. "It was difficult to get to know everybody. And I was always doing stuff with Ron and Harry in school." That was partially true too. Her parents would be distraught if she told him the truth, if they knew of Malfoy's history. It was hard enough coming to terms with it herself, she didn't want to have to walk her parents through it as well.

"So let me get this straight. You're marrying a man who you know hardly anything about simply because a bunch of wizards made up some imbecilic law stating that you have to."

"I wouldn't exactly put it like that," Hermione responded, grimacing. If only her parents knew how angry she was about it too.

"So why not just say no? What's the worst they could do?"

"Snap my wand and erase my memory," she answered truthfully for once. She hadn't exactly wanted to be _that_ honest with them, but now that she brought it up she might as well use it to her advantage. "They would probably have to erase your memories too so that you won't remember me being a witch," she pointed out. Maybe if she attacked from this angle it would work to her advantage. Her parents shuddered at the thought. They didn't like their memories being tampered with, and they were still a little sore that Hermione had already done it.

"Being a witch is a part of who I am, Dad," she began. "I don't want to lose all of that. I don't want to lose Harry and Ron, the Weasleys and all the other people I know, and I definitely don't want to have all my memories of them erased forever. It would be like dying. They're too important to me. And I'm too important to them. I have a place in that world. I'd rather live my life in a marriage that I didn't ask for than lose my life altogether."

She finished her mini-speech and her parents sat there a little stunned. They really couldn't argue with her about that, but that didn't mean they were sold on the idea of her marrying at the age of nineteen either.

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Her mother finally spoke for the first time since Hermione had brought the subject up. "We want you to be able to marry for love some day, not out of obligation. It's so medieval."

"I know, Mum," she said. That was the exact word she had used with Kingsley. "But there's nothing we can do about it. I know I might not ever love Mal― Draco. But I hope that we can have a relationship built on mutual respect and honesty." _Fat chance_. But it was worth a few lies so that her parents wouldn't worry about her. She had caused them enough worry over the years as it was.

Her mother pursed her lips. She didn't want this for her daughter. She thought it was barbaric and wrong. "There's no way that we can get around this? There's no way we can get you to say no?"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "I refuse to lose my life completely. This is who I am. You can't make me say no."

"I'm not very happy about this, Hermione," her dad said. "But we can see we're going to have to trust and respect your decision." Hermione smiled in relief. "I want to meet this guy."

"Oh..." Hermione said, all sorts of awful scenarios rapidly rushing through her mind. "About that," she continued, not sure how to explain. She knew that they'd have to meet eventually, but she was hoping to put it off for as long as possible. Preferably until the wedding, or maybe their ten year anniversary. "He's never been around muggles before. He'll know even less than the Weasleys did."

"Then he can learn," her father stated sternly.

"Right, of course." For the sake of their peace of mind she felt it better not to explain any further. "I'll ask him when he's available and let you know."

As Hermione apparated into her flat she sighed in relief that it was finally over. All in all the morning had gone better than she expected, but it still hadn't been pleasant. She could tell that her parents were really upset about it, and she knew they wouldn't ever be completely satisfied with her choice unless they saw that she and Draco fell in love with each other. Well _that_ was never going to happen. She hated to cause her parents more pain and confusion, but the situation was entirely out of her hands. All she could do was make the best of what she had. She hoped they understood. And she hoped she could beat some sense into Draco before they had to meet him.

The conversation had also caused Hermione to realize a couple of things. First of all, now that she had actually told someone outside the wizarding world, the idea of a marriage law sounded even more hare-brained, nonsensical, and unjust. A flare of anger rose up within her as she thought about what Kingsley was making her do, how he was _using_ her.

The second purpose the conversation with her parents served was to cause her to realize that she was really going to be stuck with _Draco Malfoy_ for the rest of her life. Uninvited memories began popping up in her head of things he had said over the years.

_'No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.'_

_"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer. Father's not very happy about my injury...he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this...who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"_

_'I'm surprised all the Mudbloods haven't packed their bags by now. Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger…'_

She sighed, curling up on the couch with a couple of blankets. How could someone who had been brainwashed so young possibly change his mind? There hadn't been a day of his life that Malfoy considered her an equal, and now she would be stuck to his side until one of them died. Was she really walking straight into this with both eyes open, hoping that if he only spent enough time around her he might become decent enough to live with? He might not have been the biggest arse in the world since the betrothal, but that didn't mean that he had changed. Her logical brain _knew_ that people don't just change like that, no matter how much she wanted him to.

She shook her head, trying to clear herself of those thoughts. She didn't want to deal with this situation anymore. She was tired of going over the same arguments in her head again and again.

Now that she had finished breaking the news to her parents, she began mentally preparing herself for the next evil. The afternoon was approaching far too quickly for her liking. She summoned a book to herself in the hopes that she would be able to stop thinking about Malfoy and her impendig visit to the Manor. Unfortunately, her nervousness about going to Malfoy Manor was stronger than her interest in the book. She kept on glancing up and checking the time, no matter how hard she tried not to.

At half past two, to her complete surprise, Malfoy showed up in her living room.

"Malfoy." She looked up at him with a bit of confusion and embarrassment on her face. Of _course_ she would be curled up in the couch lost in blankets when he arrived. "I wasn't expecting you yet."

Draco searched his brain trying to come up with a good excuse. He wasn't sure why he was there either, except that he had been _bored_ out of his mind.

Draco sat down on the other end of the sofa and tried not to think about how adorable she looked in her current position. _Adorable? Now really, Draco, since when has that word even been in your list of acceptable vocabulary?_ But Hermione had set down her book and was quickly untangling herself from the blankets.

As she began folding them up and putting them away, Draco noticed that she was wearing muggle clothes, and it rather surprised him. He was sure that he had seen her wear muggle clothes before, of course, but he hadn't ever taken the time to actually _look_ at her while she was in such attire, mostly because he was either coming up with a good insult or watching Weasley's fists to make sure he was prepared if Granger happened to let him off his leash. But now that Weasley was quite out of the way and he was actually trying _not_ to insult her, his brain couldn't help but notice her body. Muggle clothing tended to leave a lot less to the imagination compared to the typical garb of witches.

What surprised Malfoy was not that she was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, what surprised him was the _body_ he had never noticed before. The thought of whether or not Granger would have a nice one had never even occurred to him, he was so focused on taunting her and considering the horrors of her bushy hair. But now that he knew what he'd have to be _doing_ with said body... Granger's arse was rather lovely.

When she turned around he realized her hips were nice too. His eyes trailed down to see her foot tapping, back up to see her hands on the hips he had just been admiring, and further still to see her eyes shooting giant, pointy daggers at him.

"Are you quite finished looking me up and down now?" she asked impatiently.

_Bugger_. Caught. He might as well use it as an opportunity to irritate her. "Just checking out my merchandise, Granger."

"I am _not _your merchandise, Malfoy!" she said, furious.

"Really?" he asked, unable to keep the smirk from his face. "Because from what I can tell, I'll be giving you _lots_ of money, and you'll be giving _me_ sex and babies."

Her face turned bright red, but he wasn't quite sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. "_Oooh_ you vile, disgusting, insolent, egotistical, maniacal piece of―"

"Tut tut, Granger," he interrupted, shaking his finger at her. "Language, dear. Might I remind you this is your dear _husband_ you're talking to?"

Her foot actually stomped in anger. Draco wanted to laugh.

"Why are you here now, anyways?" she asked angrily, almost whining. "The appointment isn't until three."

"I thought I'd condescend to grace you with my presence early," he said, holding out his hands as if he was a beloved benefactor.

"How kind of you," she sneered at him.

"Yes, I thought so too," he replied.

"Well if you're finished disgusting me and insulting me all at the same time, I'd rather like to go to the Manor early. There's something I've been meaning to do."

"Such as?"

"There's someone I need to meet."

"Granger, _I'm_ the only one that lives at the Manor, if you recall."

"No you're not," she said stubbornly. The woman was _mad._

"I think I'd notice if someone else was waltzing around my house, thank you very much," he said. _Especially since he never left the place._

"I'm talking about the house-elves, Malfoy," Hermione said. "I should have known that you would have forgotten about them. Self-centered jerk," she mumbled the last part.

Draco ignored the jab. "You've got to be the only witch I know that actually cares about the _house-elves._"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione said, sticking her nose in the air and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright then, to the house-elves," he said, somewhat curious to see how this little get-to-know-you session was going to turn out.

He grabbed a handful of floo powder and said, "Malfoy kitchen!" before stepping in and disappearing in the green flames. Hermione followed right after him.

She stepped out of the fireplace and began dusting herself off, taking a look around her. The Malfoy kitchens were huge, though not quite so large as the Hogwarts kitchen of course. It was really rather beautiful too, an oddity considering how very little she was sure a witch or wizard ever entered the place.

Before she could notice anything else, Malfoy said, "Elf inspection. Line up!" Within seconds at least twenty different elves had apparated into a perfect line, their arms at their sides, postures rigid, noses pointed in the air, and eyes fixed high up the wall in front of them. They looked like they were lining up for a military inspection, and when Draco began slowly walking in front of them peering down into their faces it only added to the effect.

"At ease," Draco said after he had walked to the end of the line and went to stand beside Hermione. Their posture relaxed only slightly as they all began to peer curiously at Draco and Hermione.

"Well here they are, Granger," Draco said, an almost bored tone in his voice.

"There's so many of them!"

"Hardly," he drawled. "Hogwarts has at least a hundred."

"Yes, but Hogwarts has hundreds of students and staff. It makes more sense. There's only three Malfoys."

"We like to make sure everything is well taken care of," he said, sounding rather like a snobby child.

"I can see that," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "So how many are there exactly?"

"Twenty-three. And one on the way," he informed her, nodding at an elf towards the left who had an obvious bulge in her stomach. The elf gave a tiny, sheepish smile and patted her belly.

"Permission to speak, Master?" one of the elves at the very end squeaked out.

"Yes," he said simply.

"We is wondering if this is being our future mistress."

"Yes, this is Hermione Granger," he said, turning to look at her with an unreadable expression on his face. He almost looked at her as if she were a peculiar artifact he didn't quite understand. "She wanted to meet you all today," he finished, still looking at Hermione. But Hermione's gaze was now drawn back to the elves, who suddenly stood a little bit taller at hearing that someone wanted to meet _them._

"You is wanting to meet _us_, Miss?" the elf at the end squeaked out, clearly in awe. Hermione decided that it was probably their spokes-elf.

"Yes," Hermione said, smiling at them. "I've been looking forward to it." They gazed at her curiously, half flattered and half suspecting it to be a trap. Hermione's heart squeezed at the thought of it.

"Could you tell me all your names?" she asked them. She wasn't _entirely_ sure how to proceed with them. She wanted to respect them, but she was also afraid of scaring them off. She had learned her lesson with the Hogwarts elves.

"I is being Pokey, Miss," said the elf at the end. "I is being the chief elf," he said, a little pride in his voice. Goodness, even the Malfoy _house-elves_ were full of pride. It was much cuter on the house-elves than on the people.

"Pleasure to meet you, Pokey," she said, smiling. The elf bowed low to the ground.

"I is being Topsy, Miss," said the next elf in line. Hermione thought she looked to be female.

"Pleasure to meet you, Topsy," Hermione said. And so they went down the line with each elf until they reached the pregnant one.

"I is being Flow, Miss," she said.

"Congratulations on your baby, Flow," Hermione said. The elf turned pink and smiled at Hermione.

"Thank you, Miss," she said.

"Have you picked a name yet?" she asked.

"No, Miss," Flow said with wide eyes. "The Master is always being the picker of names."

"Oh," Hermione said, blushing. "I didn't realize." She was purposely not making eye contact with Malfoy, who she was sure would be gloating at her lack of knowledge. "I'm not very knowledgable about the customs of house-elves yet, you see."

Flow nodded, looking unsure of what to say. She probably wasn't used to being spoken to as if she had anything worthwhile to say.

"Pleasure to meet you, Flow." The little elf curtsied and the next elf in line told Hermione her name.

After she had met all of the elves she turned to Draco, who still looked a little smug. He loved it when he knew more than her. It wasn't something that happened every day when it came to Granger.

"I suppose we should probably get ready to meet the designer?" she asked.

"Yes," he responded. And then turning to the elves he said, "You can go back to your work now. Topsy, prepare tea for the East Wing drawing room. The designer will be meeting us in there."

Hermione was a bit perturbed that he didn't say please, but she figured now was probably not the time to battle about it.

Suddenly she realized that she would soon be touring the rest of the Manor, walking into rooms she thought she would never have to see again. When Draco offered her his arm, she clung to it nervously, hardly noticing that she was touching him when they weren't even in the public eye. Draco didn't bother to point that out. Secretly he was glad to feel so needed, to feel like he was able to comfort someone just by his presence.

He led her through several halls, up a staircase, and over to the sofa in the sitting room where they would wait for the designer to show up. Hermione looked around curiously. It wasn't nearly as bad as she expected. For some reason, she always pictured the Manor as some type of Haunted House. In reality, it was really very elegant. She almost liked it. It felt nearly welcoming and inviting, and yet intimidating and stately at the same time. All thoughts of the night of the Drawing Room quickly escaped her mind. She stood up and walked over to a display case, looking at all the beautiful trinkets. She didn't notice that he had stood up and followed her, observing her as carefully as she was observing the trinkets before her.

He had noticed that she visibly relaxed. It pleased him a little bit, knowing that she wouldn't always be so wound up there. He almost had a sense of pride as she gazed in approval at the room around her. She liked it, and he liked that she liked it. Perhaps this night wouldn't turn out as bad as he had imagined it might.

It wasn't long before a house-elf appeared in the room. "Master Draco," she squeaked. "You's is having a visitor!"

"Very well, Pinky," he said. "Show him in."

"Him?" Hermione asked. "For some reason I was expecting a woman."

Before Draco could respond, an enthusiastic and well-dressed wizard walked into the room with a flourish.

"Splendid to see you, Mr. Malfoy!" he burst out. He walked over to them, grabbing Hermione's hand and saying, "And this must be the wonderful lady you were lucky enough to snag." Hermione smiled as he kissed her hand before turning to Draco and saying, "She's simply lovely, Mr. Malfoy. I offer you my congratulations!"

In response, Draco gave his 'I-deserve-everything-in-the-world-and-why-would-anyone-think-otherwise?' smirk and quite simply said, "Thank you." Hermione blushed. She was unused to such compliments but knew she'd like their interior designer already.

"Hermione," Draco began, "May I introduce to you Mister Robbie Hott. Robbie, Hermione Granger."

"Simply lovely to meet you, Miss Granger! I've heard so much about you!"

After all pleasantries had been properly spoken, Robbie said, "Well, shall we have a look around the place then? I've simply been _dying _to see Malfoy Manor for _ages! _It has quite the reputation among people in my job line, you know? So much history! So much elegance!"

"Indeed," Draco replied, holding out his arm for Hermione to take again. She latched onto him more anxiously than she had intended. The thought of leaving this room gave her anxiety again. _This_ room might be decent, but that didn't mean the rest of the place wasn't the haunted house out of her nightmares. Her memory brought up cold, dark rooms with shifty shadows in the corners.

Despite her nervousness, the rest of the manor had much of the same warmth and regal elegance as the sitting room she had so loved. Robbie danced around in front of them, admiring every piece of furniture he saw and going on and on about how beautiful the house was. '_There's just so much to work with!' _he had exclaimed. And Hermione was relieved so far to find that she still hadn't recognized anything from _that_ night. They had flooed into a room in the Manor that was far off from the entry way and Drawing Room that she had been so graciously invited into before.

But sooner or later they had to show up there if they intended on touring the whole place. They took the grand staircase down to the entry way, and as soon as Hermione recognized which direction they began heading, she immediately panicked. Draco winced slightly at the sudden death grip on his arm. He patted her hand reassuringly but she hardly noticed. Robbie continued to bound on ahead of them, commenting on how beautiful the marble floors were, and surely they cost a fortune, and it _was_ a bit cold, but they could do a lot with the place.

Hermione's heart was thumping in her chest and her stomach started twisting in anticipation. She was sure Bellatrix would pop out at any moment. If both hands hadn't been tightly clamped to Draco's poor arm, she would have been fidgeting with the wand in her pocket.

They finally made it to the bottom of the stairs and Robbie headed straight for the closed double doors right off the entry way.

"No, Rob―" Draco started, trying to prevent the man from opening the doors. But it was too late. The doors had been thrust open for the first time since the Ministry had left the room in shambles. Not a single candle was lit in the room, and all Hermione could see was a gaping hole, looking as if it would swallow her at any moment. Memories she had spent two years suppressing started coming back in waves. It was suddenly as if she had been transported back to that very night. All logic left her mind to be replaced only with terror and flashbacks of being tortured.

Robbie stood before the doors he had just flung open, glimpsing the sheer chaos inside and realizing that he had just tried to enter a room that was clearly off limits.

"Oh," he said lamely while delicately closing the doors. "I guess we'll just leave this room for later."

Hermione had let go of Draco's arm as soon as Robbie had opened the doors and backed up against the wall, wand in hand. The tension in the room was unbelievable. Robbie slowly turned around to see the panicked Hermione, who seemed to be looking at things they couldn't see.

"_You're lying, you filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth_! What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife! What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!_"

"I can't do this," she mumbled, pulling herself back to reality, still looking at the closed doors. "I can't live here." And with that she turned around booked it towards the kitchen where they had arrived.

"Hermione!" Draco yelled, running after her. But she had a head start, and she had paid close attention to the floor plan of the Manor. The self-preservation instinct she developed during the war was not so easy to control. No matter what building she walked into, she always had a part of her brain scanning around to discover the quickest escape.

Draco caught up to her just as she had reached the fire place. "Hermione, wait!" he shouted. She was a pitiful sight to behold, tears streaming down her face as she searched frantically for the floo powder.

"Just don't leave yet. We can talk about this." She shook her head back and forth frantically.

"No, we can't. I won't live here. I can't live here. I'd rather have my wand snapped than marry you!" And before he knew it, she was gone. Draco grabbed some floo powder as soon as she left and tried to follow her, but she had already blocked her house off. He couldn't get through, and he couldn't disapparate.

"DAMN IT!" he shouted, punching the wall.

A throat cleared behind him. "I'll just be leaving then."

"Wait," Draco said, whipping his head around to glare at the man. He walked up to him until they were standing nose to nose. Draco towered over him, and he was quite the intimidating sight. "I recommend that you don't breathe a single word of this to anyone," Draco whispered menacingly, "or the consequences might be drastic." Robbie gulped and nodded his head. Everyone knew it was suicide to cross a Malfoy.

"Leave."

He nodded again before making his shaky legs walk over to the fireplace and flee from the volatile wizard's presence.

As soon as Robbie left, Draco flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and tried to apparate to Hermione's flat. But there was no use in it. She had already made sure he wasn't able to do that. The witch was stubborn and able. There was no way he would end up seeing her that day if she didn't want to be seen.

He returned home to pace back and forth in the sitting room. Back and forth in front of the fireplace. Back and forth.

He was trying to figure out what went wrong, why she had such a bad reaction. She was a _Gryffindor_ for crying out loud! He thought they were supposed to be brave. But instead she panicked and high-tailed it out of there just like a Slytherin would. And _bloody hell_, he had acted like the foolish Gryffindor and chased after her! What was the world coming to?

Draco paced back and forth for what felt like hours, trying to figure out what he did wrong, why Hermione had fled, and what he needed to do now. If he wasn't so focused on the problem at hand, he would have noticed how very unlike him it was to care so much about her reaction. The old Draco would have laughed at her. The old Draco would have shaken it off, left her alone for a week and then sent her an owl to tell her how pathetic she was. The old Draco wouldn't care if Hermione got her wand snapped because it would at least mean he had his freedom.

He hadn't quite realized it yet, but the old Draco was gone. The new Draco cared _very much_ that Hermione had left the Manor in such a panic. He cared a lot that she said she would rather have her wand snapped than marry him. He cared more than he would ever admit.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm not sure if it actually needs to be said, but there were several quotes directly from the books that I did _not_ write. Those would be Hermione's flashbacks.

This scene was much more difficult to get out into words than I had anticipated. I can't even tell you how much editing I've done, and I'm still not entirely satisfied. But I don't think I can edit much more without taking a few days away and coming back to it, and that just wouldn't be fair to the readers, would it?

Happy Leap Day, everyone!


	7. Furious

February 14- 77 Days Until Matrimony

After Hermione left Malfoy Manor and made sure that he couldn't follow her, she collapsed onto her couch and sobbed into her poor pillow until she was hoarse. She wasn't really sure why she had reacted like that, but she knew she had to get out of there. She wasn't ready to face those demons. She didn't _ever_ want to face those demons. It wasn't just about what happened to her. It was everything that she could only imagine has happened at Malfoy Manor. How many other people were tortured in that room? How many others died unmentionable deaths in there? How many blood stains would she find on the wall? It haunted her to think about it.

When Ginny arrived not much later and spotted Hermione crying in the living room she didn't say a word. She went into the kitchen and made two steaming hot cups of tea and sat next down to Hermione. Hermione looked up, hiccoughed, and gratefully took the tea from Ginny's hands. After she had calmed down for a moment, Ginny finally said, "Tell me what happened."

Hermione told the whole sad tale to Ginny, crying again at the end.

"I don't know what happened!" she lamented. "I just _freaked out! _And I couldn't stand being in that vile place for a second longer and I knew I couldn't make myself spend the rest of my life there!"

Ginny nodded in understanding, her eyes lighting up in anger. She knew why Hermione had panicked about that place. She probably would have too if it had been her.

"That evil git! I bet he took you to that room on purpose! Probably _wanted_ to torment you!"

Hermione sniffed and nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but remember how he had been about to tell Robbie not to open the doors.

"I bet he made fun of you about it afterwords too, hm?" Ginny said, glaring at the floor as if it were really Draco. "Probably wanted to rub it in about your experience with his _lovely Aunt._ The soulless snake."

Hermione paused, her tea cup half way up to her mouth. He had been rubbing it in, hadn't he? That's why he had followed her to the kitchen, so he could watch her cry. Right?

'_Just don't leave yet. We can talk about this.'_

'_No, we can't. I won't live here. I can't live here. I'd rather have my wand snapped than marry you!'_

"Ginny," Hermione whispered, not believing that she had remembered those words correctly. But she always remembered, word for word. She couldn't forget even if she wanted to. The redhead looked over at Hermione, confused.

"What is it?"

"I was so mad, so freaked out. I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. I didn't even think about it."

"Think about what?" Ginny said, her voice filled with worry and confusion.

"He didn't make fun of me," Hermione said, reality finally sinking in as she looked at Ginny. Shock was still splashed across her face.

"He... he didn't?" Ginny asked, tone laced with disbelief.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head slightly. "He told me not to leave."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He said we could talk about it."

"What did you say?"

"I―" she stopped, squirming a little with guilt. She was unused to feeling guilty about anything she had ever said to Malfoy.

Her own words replayed in her mind again, her memory brutally honest.

"I told him I'd rather have my wand snapped than marry him."

"Oh," Ginny said, looking a bit shocked herself. She didn't know what to think about the scenario. "He probably deserved it."

"Yeah," Hermione nodded slowly. "He probably does." Even as she said it she began to question that very thing. The two girls sat in silence for a moment, each mulling over what had happened.

"Anyways," Ginny said, finally breaking the silence, "Mum sent me over. Everyone's going to be at the Burrow for dinner tonight. Valentine's Day, and all... She was hoping you would come."

"Oh," Hermione sniffed. She had forgotten it was Valentine's Day. It's not like she would be doing anything romantic anyways, especially not now that she was stuck with Malfoy. She sniffed again miserably. Ginny handed her a tissue and Hermione wiped the tears off her face and blew her nose loudly. "What time?"

Ginny checked her watch. "I think they should all be arriving about now, actually."

"Okay," Hermione said, voice still shaky from her crying spells. "That would be n-n-nice. Let me freshen up." Luckily she knew a few spells that made it so she didn't look as if she had been crying.

"Sure thing, Hermione," Ginny said, smiling gently. She decided Hermione could use a change of subject, so she said, "By the way, Ron received an owl from Kingsley this morning requesting a meeting."

"That can't result in anything good," Hermione replied. "And on a Saturday too." She was glad for the change of subject.

"Well that depends," Ginny said vaguely.

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on what kind of person Tracey Davis is. That's who he's marrying."

"Tracey Davis? How interesting. I don't remember much about her. She's not a Pureblood?"

"Guess not. Apparently she spent a lot of time with Parkinson. I hear she's a snob."

"Wonderful," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "They just can't make this easy on us, can they?"

A few minutes later she stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow with Ginny close behind her. It was sheer chaos, as usual. She felt like she had stepped into a giant furnace. Not only was it warm and cozy in the Burrow's kitchen, but all the heads of bright orange hair could easily be mistaken for fire if one squinted their eyes. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, taking in the smell of Molly's cooking and that unique scent that she had come to associate with only their home. It was comforting to her, and she couldn't help but be thankful that she still had this. It had been threatened so very many times before.

"Ginny, where have you been all this time? I could've really used your help with the cooking," Molly said when she noticed the arrival of her daughter.

"Sorry, Mum. I needed to talk to Hermione about something." A look of understanding came to Molly's face. Sometimes she didn't like how perceptive that woman was.

"Oh hello, Hermione," Molly said, coming over to give her a tight hug. "It's good to see you."

Hermione squeezed back tightly, glad that everything was okay between her and the older woman. Things had been tense for a while after she and Ron broke up, but they had finally worked it all out and Hermione was seen as part of the family still even though she wasn't marrying into it.

"Bill and Fleur should be here any moment," Mrs. Weasley said. "And George and Angelina are in the other room with Ron and Harry. You should go say hello, dear. Ginny, help me with the potatoes, please."

Hermione walked into the other room and was soon wrapped up in a hug by Harry before anyone else had noticed that she arrived. Harry had become quite perceptive during the war.

"Hi, Hermione," he said. "You okay?"

"Yeah fine," she smiled. It didn't quite reach her eyes so Harry gave her a disbelieving look. "I was at Malfoy Manor this afternoon," she said by way of explanation.

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding in understanding. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really," she answered honestly, glad that Harry gave her the option instead of just pelting her with questions. "I just talked to Ginny about it. Now I think I'd rather just forget for the rest of the night."

"Sure thing, Hermione," he said with a grin.

"How's Ron? Ginny told me the news."

They both looked over at their long-time friend. Only someone who knew Ron really well could tell that he was more tense and emotional than usual.

"He's obviously not happy about it," Harry said. "She may not have been a Death Eater, but she grew up with that crowd." Hermione nodded, secretly feeling like Ron didn't have it nearly as bad as she did.

"Has he met with her yet?"

"No, not yet. Kingsley says he has to by tomorow."

Hermione shook her head. "He's ordering us around like three year olds," she said, frustrated. Harry's eyes filled with sadness.

"I feel so guilty, Hermione," he admitted. "You guys are being bossed around into marriage like your Kingsley's slaves and I..." he trailed off, not actually wanting to rub it in too much.

Hermione shook her head and squeezed his arm. "No Harry, it's not your fault. Kingsley _is_ being a bloody idiot, but it's not like you asked for this." He grinned a tiny bit. The boys loved it when Hermione cursed, she did it so rarely.

"I know," he said, becoming serious again, "but it's still unfair. I feel so horrible about it."

"Don't," she said sternly. "I'm just glad that one of us gets to be happy. At least Ron and I aren't in love with each other. You and Ginny are. It would be horrible if they split you up."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said. "You're a great friend, you know that?"

She smiled. "You only tell me that all the time."

"Well it's true," he said. "I mean, you're the reason I finished six years at Hogwarts, and you went on loads of adventures with me, and we wouldn't have defeated Voldemort without you, and..."

"I know, Harry, I know! You've told me," Hermione said, laughing a little. "Anyways, how's everything going with you and Ginny? Have you bought a ring yet?"

"I might have," he said evasively, but the twinkle in his eyes gave it away.

"_Oooh_! Do you have it? Can I see it? Are you going to ask her tonight?"

"Keep your voice down, will you?" he said. "I'm not asking her tonight, and are you bloody crazy? Bring her ring to _this_ house? One of them would sniff it out somehow in an instant, you know it!"

"Yeah, that was probably a wise move," Hermione agreed. "So when are you going to ask her?"

Harry looked around the room for a minute. "Look, it's not that I don't trust _you_, Hermione," he began.

"Yeah, I know," she said, interrupting him. "The Burrow is the worst place on earth to try and keep a secret. But I want to know first thing when it happens, Harry James Potter!"

Before he could respond an arm was thrown around each of their shoulders from behind, surprising them.

"When what happens?" George asked with a grin. "My hearing's not as good as it used to be, you see," he explained, pointing to his missing ear. Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. It warmed her heart to see George joking.

"When I remove your other ear for eavesdropping!" Harry said, but he was laughing too.

"Oh you're a funny one, Harry, real funny," he replied, leading them further into the room. "Now stop trying to keep Hermione to yourself! Come sit down. Do you want a drink? Firewhisky?" Hermione eyed the glasses in everyone's hands.

"Don't you all think it's a little early to start with the Firewhiskey?" she asked.

"Hermione! It's already six o'clock!" Ron said incredulously, but clearly in a good mood. He was probably trying just as hard to forget about Davis as she was trying to forget about Malfoy.

"Oh, alright," she said with a smile. And the rest of the evening was spent in the pleasurable company of the people she loved best in this world. It was nearing midnight when she finally decided it was time to go. She stood up and started to tell the others goodnight.

"Wait one second before you leave, Hermione. I have something for you," Ginny said, running upstairs momentarily. She came down a couple minutes later and followed Hermione into the kitchen.

"Here," Ginny said, placing a small vial into Hermione's hands. "Dreamless sleep potion. Thought you could use it tonight."

"Thanks, Ginny," she said with a small smile. "I'm sure I would have had horrible dreams tonight."

"Anytime," Ginny replied, flashing a smile. "How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Okay," she agreed. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

That night Hermione thought about Malfoy as she climbed into her bed. She wondered what he was doing right now. Probably sleeping. Or maybe he was rejoicing at the fact that she was going to have her wand snapped and he was going to get off scot free. But as she lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, the last image that swirled before her mind was the hurt she had seen on his face when she told him she would rather lose her magic than marry him.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was _not_ happy. Not happy one bit.

Of course, Draco Malfoy not being happy wasn't really news, but this time he had more than the usual reasons for being unhappy.

Sometime after Granger had left, he suddenly realized that he had been pacing back and forth, appearing as if he had been _fretting_ over _Granger_. To hell with it! If Granger wanted her wand snapped, that was fine by him! He was not going to spend another moment dwelling on it.

Of course, he did his best with that intention, but it didn't last forever. He just didn't understand what was going on inside that woman's head. She _knew_ she didn't have an option about the marriage, and she had already signed the contract that _she_ wrote. He probably should have bothered to find out more of the details of said contract in case she added a few loopholes that would work in her favor, but the wording of it seemed pretty clear to him. Upon their inevitable marriage in less than three months, she was to move into the newly redecorated manor.

Even if she _did_ find a way around her blasted contract, he _knew_ she wouldn't find her way around wizarding law. Once a law was passed, the process of revoking it took ages. Even if the process started that moment, which it wasn't going to be, it would be _at least_ six months before they could disregard said law, and by that time it will have been too late. The law stated that once matched, they must be wedded within three months or suffer the consequences.

He knew she didn't have an option. She could say that she wasn't marrying him all she wanted, but when it came down to it, they both knew she had to. He knew she would come to her senses. And in the meantime, he busied himself ignoring that sensation that felt an awful lot like hurt and rejection and instead focused on the things that irritated him about her, like her inability to see reason and her ludicrous fear of something as silly as a house. He was _not_ going to just let himself be _hurt_ by someone like Granger.

* * *

><p>February 15th― 76 Days Until Wedlock<p>

The next day Hermione awoke in a pleasant mood, feeling for the first time in ages very well rested. But as she stretched herself out on her bed, the memories from the night before came flooding back. She groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

She was completely _mortified_. Since when was she such a coward?

But despite how embarrassed she was about her actions the night before, a part of her still stubbornly refused to ever set foot in Malfoy Manor again. It was absolutely ridiculous that he wanted to _live_ in a place where such vile, horrible things happened! Didn't he ever think about how many deaths had occurred there, or how many innocent people had been tortured in those rooms?

Tapping on her window interrupted her thoughts. She slowly cracked an eye open to see what it was and groaned again as she recognized Malfoy's eagle owl. She tried to ignore it, but the owl tapped so persistently that she couldn't think straight anymore. She pulled herself out of bed and stumbled toward the window to let it in. She sighed as she opened the letter, not quite sure she wanted to know what was inside.

_Granger, _

_We really need to talk. Open the floo so I can come over._

_Malfoy_

Hermione huffed angrily. Did he really think he could boss her around that easily?

'_No.'_ she wrote in response at the bottom of the parchment, rolling it up again and reattaching it to the owl's leg. She pulled a treat for the owl out of her drawer and sent it off again. Just because she was mad at Malfoy didn't mean she would neglect the poor bird.

She wrapped herself in a robe and stumbled to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, leaning against the counter and waiting for it to finish. Coffee had quickly become one of her guilty pleasures at Hogwarts. It was usually one of the first things she turned to when she was in a bad mood and needed some comforting, not to mention the fact that the thought of it was sometimes the only thing that could get her out of bed. _Guess that makes it my comfort food, _she thought sleepily. When the coffee finished she poured it into her favorite mug with her favorite creamer and cradled it in her hands, inhaling the scent deeply.

_Little things,_ she thought. _I'm going to think about how much I love the little things. Like coffee._ _And I'm most certainly _not _going to think about how Malfoy's such a wanker, or how he is ruining my life, or how I'm going to solve this enormous problem._

She looked at her watch. Eight o'clock. Ginny wouldn't be arriving for another three and a half hours.

Fifteen minutes and one shower later the persistent tapping started on her window again. She groaned as she let in Malfoy's owl _again_. She had hoped he wouldn't respond so quickly.

_Granger,_

_Are you really going to break our deal? You're going to completely disregard the contract that you wrote and we both signed? How very Slytherin of you._

_Malfoy_

Hermione was peeved to realize that Malfoy was right. That _was_ very Slytherin of her, just like running away from him and refusing him entry into her house was Slytherin of her too. Just like dumping his letter in the rubbish bin and choosing not to respond was Slytherin of her as well. Just like ignoring any attempt he made to contact her for however long she pleased was Slytherin. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

As she finished getting ready for her day, she couldn't help but think about the conversation she had with Ginny the day before. They both had assumed that Malfoy would take pleasure in Hermione's fear and discomfort, but now she wasn't entirely sure that's what he had been doing. She had been so hysterical when she left that she couldn't clearly remember his reaction. He hadn't been laughing. He wasn't even sneering at her. No, he had run_ after _her. But why?

The same dilemna that she had been suppressing after the visit with her parents floated in front of her again. Could a Malfoy change? There's a reason why they had 'pure' blood for so many centuries. They brainwashed their children from infancy and went to extreme measures to make sure no one married outside the proper line. And if that wasn't bad enough, they had started following Voldemort.

But he had agreed to marry her with hardly a fight, hadn't he? It's not like he was happy about it, but he saw that there was no other option and so he accepted.

But there _wasn't _an option. He couldn't do anything even if he wanted to There was no sense in making it seem as if he was noble for agreeing to something he had no choice in. Besides, he had also agreed to following Voldemort, and killing Dumbledore, and letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He was just one giant pushover and did anything anyone told him to as long as they put enough pressure on him first. She had no reason to respect him and she certainly didn't need to feel guilty about taking off like she had the day before.

Tears leaked out of her eyes as the burden of the position she was in weighed down upon her. Of _all_ people, it had to be _him._ He was the one who tried hardest to make her miserable, who treated them the worst, who was least likely to ever accept her for who she was. He was a Death Eater, a Death Eater that never tried to switch sides, never tried to be anything better.

But he was right, they _did_ need to talk about yesterday's incident, if only so she could set him straight. She wasn't stepping inside that blasted house again. He could burn it for all she cared.

She got out some parchment and wrote him a quick note in return.

'_Fine. Be here at 10:30.' _

"Here, Pallas, take this to Draco Malfoy." Pallas hooted in reply, gave her finger a gentle nip, and glided out the window. She groaned as she thought about having another encounter with Malfoy.

Breakfast. She needed breakfast. And more coffee.

When 10:29 rolled around she sat down on the sofa and waited for him to arrive. She knew he wouldn't be late.

'_Woosh.' _Malfoy appeared in green flames.

_Figures. Ten-thirty, on the dot._

"Granger," he said, acknowledging her.

"Malfoy."

"Care to explain yourself?" he began, not wasting any time on pleasantries.

"Explain _what_?" she asked, though she knew full well what he wanted.

"Explain why you took off like that yesterday," he said, the frustration in his voice evident.

Hermione pulled herself up a little straigher and said snootily, "I merely had a brief flashback of a rather unpleasant memory that I never want to relive."

He shook his head at her, not very pleased with her explanation. "Right, well you're going to have to either get used to the flashbacks or suppress them because I'm afraid the Entrance Hall isn't going anywhere."

"I'm not going back there, Malfoy. You can't make me."

"What do you _mean_ you're not going back there?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She hadn't bothered to invite him to sit down, but he was far too worked up to sit down now anyways.

"I mean what I said. I'm not going back there, Malfoy. I won't live in Malfoy Manor."

"If you're going to marry me then you're going to have to live in Malfoy Manor," he insisted.

"Right. Well then it looks like I won't be marrying you then."

He shook his head at her again. "Are you _daft_, Granger?"

"No, if you'll remember correctly I was the top of our year," she replied, sounding an awful lot like she was bragging.

"Granger, you can't just _not_ marry me!"

"I'm not marrying you," she insisted. "And that's final."

"Well I'm glad we've cleared things up then," he said sarcastically. "Because I was beginning to think we couldn't work this out. All we need to do now is take over the Ministry of Magic and find a way around your marriage contract. No problem."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but her brain couldn't come up with anything clever. She snapped her mouth shut and directed her gaze towards the wall, trying to come up with a solution. She knew she was being immature, but she just couldn't seem to help it.

"There's got to be a way around this," she said determinedly.

Draco chuckled, but he was anything but amused. "You know as well as I do that there's no way around this, Granger. Neither of us like it, but it's the way it is. We're getting married in less than three months, we're living in Malfoy Manor, and that's the way it is. Let me know when you decide to grow up," he said, turning to leave.

Hermione was indignant. Draco _Malfoy_ of all people could not tell_ her_ to grow up and get away with it! "I beg your pardon!" she said, causing him to turn back towards her.

"You heard me."

"_You_ of all people can't tell_ me_ that I need to grow up!"

"Really?" he asked, his ire rising. "Because I just did. Who's being the level-headed one, Granger? It's certainly not you! You can't even accept the truth!"

"I accept the truth just fine, thank you very much!"

"Right, and that's why we're going to completely disregard your magical contract and the laws of the ministry!"

"Right."

"You disgust me!" he spat. "Knowing your luck, it will probably work, too. Fucking dream team gets everything they want just handed to them on a silver platter!"

"That's not true, Malfoy, and you know it!" she shouted. She was furious. How could he act like they've done absolutely _nothing? _His raging jealousy of them was out of control! "We were the ones who spent _years_ trying to get rid of Voldemort _on our own_ and all you did was host him in your home and tell him how great he was!"

"Shut _up_, you bitch! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Really?" she asked, voice shaking she was so angry. "Because the way I remember it, you and your sweet little family welcomed Voldemort into your home!"

"Stop it!" he hissed.

"You invited him in and you did whatever he asked of you! Not once did you try and stop him! Not once did you save someone's life!"

"Stop, Granger, I mean it!"

"Like hell I will!" she shouted. "I fought with them! I never gave in like you did!"

"Well aren't you so fucking special?" he shouted back. "Gryffindors save the fucking world again and all the Slytherins can be damned!"

"It sounds about right to me! You're a coward who let other people do all the dirty work for you!"

"That's not true!"

"How many people did you watch him kill? How many people did you torture? You _watched_, Malfoy! You_ watched_ that vile woman _torture_ me and you didn't even try and stop her!"

"SHUT THE FUCK _UP!" _His fists were balled, his chest was heaving, and his eyes were shooting daggers at her. "You don't know _anything, _Granger! You don't know what it was _like!" _

A twinge of fear entered her chest as she realized just how angry he was. She had crossed a line, and now she knew it. As instantly as the anger came it had washed out of her body and been replaced by a tiny bit of guilt and sympathy and a lot of curiosity.

"You're right," she whispered.

His fists were still clenched, but her words had surprised him. After a few moments of silence he too began to calm down.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you _what?" _he asked irritably.

"Tell me what it was like."

"I'm not exactly in the sharing mood right now, Granger," he ground out.

"When are you ever in the sharing mood?" she asked, frustrated and desperately wanting to get to the bottom of this, to figure out why he did the things he did.

"Never," he said. "And especially not with the likes of you."

"The likes of me?" she asked, a little indignant. "What have _we_ ever done to you?"

"You'll never understand," he said.

"Try me."

"You don't mean that."

"Does it look like I'm lying?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye. He examined her for a minute, searching for proof that she _was_ lying, that she _didn't_ care, that she was just like all the others like he had always known she was. He couldn't find it though, that proof he was looking for.

"I don't really feel like having a heart to heart, Granger." He didn't know _how _to have a heart to heart, and he certainly didn't feel like trying, especially not now that he felt like such a piece of shit. Granger didn't have any clue just how easily she could tear down a man.

"Fine, but don't say I never asked."

"Fine."

She opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by someone else arriving through the fireplace.

"Ginny."

"Sorry, Hermione, I came early. I didn't know..."

"It's fine, Weasley," he said, still glaring at Hermione. "I was just leaving."

"Malfoy, wait!"

He walked to the fireplace and left before she could say anything else. He was positive that he didn't want to hear anything from her at that moment.

"Erm... Wow," Ginny said, several minutes after Malfoy had left.

"Yeah," Hermione said, looking a bit shocked still.

"What was that?"

"I have no idea."

"Let's go to lunch, you can tell me about it there. A muggle place, of course."

"Okay," she nodded. She definitely did not want the details of her dilemma published for everyone to see.

Not much later they were seated in a cozy pub nearby Hermione's flat.

"How'd you sleep?" Ginny asked once they had their food.

"Perfectly," Hermione replied. "That Dreamless Sleep Potion was a lifesaver."

"So, you decided to talk to him then?" Ginny asked, bringing up the inevitable.

"Yeah," Hermione said, pushing the food around her plate. Malfoy was always surprising her, and she wasn't so convinced it was in the best of ways. That conversation hadn't gone at all like she thought it might.

"Well what happened?" Ginny asked. "What did he say?"

Hermione winced. "He said a lot of things."

"Start at the beginning."

Hermione relayed almost the entire conversation to Ginny, remembering it far better than she would have liked.

"Blimey," Ginny said, looking a bit shocked herself.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

"So, what now?"

"I have no idea!" Hermione said. "I'm completely at a loss, Ginny. Tell me what to do!"

"You know I can't do that," Ginny said, smiling a bit.

Hermione felt like her head was spinning, like she couldn't think straight. Parts of her felt so angry still, and like she was right in everything she said to him, but then a big part of her felt really guilty, and she wasn't quite sure why.

"Do you think I was wrong?" she asked nervously.

"Well..." Ginny said, trailing off.

"Be honest with me, Ginny," she said. "Please?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Hermione, you know that," Ginny said. "I'm just bloody confused!"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Hermione said, sighing.

"I think you should talk to him some more. No one really _has_ asked his side of things. I'm not saying he'll have anything to say that will excuse him from what he did, but it wouldn't hurt."

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "After our argument I realized that I've never bothered asking him about it, and now I'm really curious."

"No kidding! You'll have to tell me _everything_ he says!"

"Of course, Ginny."

"So when do you think you'll talk to him?"

"I don't know, maybe tomorrow?"

"How about today?"

"Today?"

"Yeah, why not? Tomorrow you have to go to work. And if you postpone the meeting until _after_ work then you'll be distracted all day!"

Ginny was completely right. Goodness knows she's missed enough work already.

"So what are you going to do about marrying him? Were you serious when you told him you weren't going to" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," she said, instantly deflating. "I really don't think I _can_ marry him, Ginny."

"But would you really rather have your wand snapped and be banished from our world forever instead?"

"You make it sound so tragic."

"It _is_ tragic, Hermione!"

"I know," she sighed.

"_Well?"_ Ginny asked impatiently. "Would you?"

"No..." she said, staring at the table.

"Then marrying him is your only option."

"I hate this," she stated.

"It's bloody awful," Ginny agreed. "So you're definitely not going to break the contract?"

"I can't. At least not easily. I'm too accomplished at those things for my own good." Hermione stopped fiddling with her food for a moment to take a couple bites.

"I'm so embarrassed," Hermione admitted after a moment. "I acted like a complete coward yesterday."

"Who would have known? The great Hermione Granger, a coward," Ginny teased. "But really, you should talk to him. Maybe he'll have something good to say."

Hermione didn't respond, fidgeting with her food once more.

"And really, living in the Manor won't be that bad," Ginny stated in her matter-of-fact voice. Hermione arched an eyebrow at her. "Especially if you redecorate the place."

"Do you know how many people died there?" Hermione whispered, looking at the table again.

"Do you know how many people died at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked. "Or on this ground we're standing on? Or in your current flat? You can't let the past stop you from living in the present, Hermione."

"But it's all I could think about as I got into those rooms. The memories of _that _night just came flooding back."

"Maybe that's why he made the deal about redecorating," Ginny suggested. "It makes perfect sense, really. You feel that way after having experienced one night there. He has months worth of memories."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Of course I'm right," Ginny said arrogantly. "So are you going to talk to him?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking about her options for a moment. She didn't really have a choice. They had made an agreement, and she might as well have signed in blood.

"Yeah, I'll talk to him today."

* * *

><p>Author's note: I had originally intended the story to go a different direction, but the characters demanded something different. I don't like disagreements, so they're kind of tough for me to write. I just want them all to be happy with each other, but then I wouldn't have much of a story...<p>

Thank you so much for all your reviews. Your encouragement is wonderful and I do a happy dance every time I read a review, no joke.


	8. A Heart to Heart

_Oh my, these last two weeks of my life have been _crazy!_ I just spent four days in England and all I could think about was Harry Potter. Gosh, I love that country. My apologies for making you wait for the next chapter. I may be slow, but I have every intention of finishing this story. _Especially_ since I now have a beta. A big thanks to itzeebitzeespider for beta-reading for me! _

_Happy reading!_

* * *

><p>February 15- 76 Days Until Wedlock<p>

Draco left Granger's house and immediately went to his quidditch pitch to let off some steam. That conversation with her had made him feel more than he had felt in _years_. He had spent so long trying to make himself numb to the world around him and now it felt like he had been given an extra dose of feeling and shoved off a cliff. He was determined to fly so fast and so high and so dangerously that he couldn't _think _anymore and deal with the big fat complication that was Hermione Granger.

At least... that was the intention. Thirty minutes after he had determined that fact, he found himself floating on his broomstick hundreds of feet above the earth and incapable of doing anything else but remembering those horrid words she had flung at him. They went through his mind over and over and over again and all he wanted to do was purge his mind of them.

She so capably and instantaneously brought out all of the memories, feelings, inadequacies, and issues that he hated the most and then expected him to _tell_ her about them. She wanted him to recount his experiences as if he was telling her about how he had tripped in the hallway and scraped his knee. People didn't just talk about stuff like the Dark Lord living in their _home_. He had never been asked to share about something that personal before and he was certain that he didn't want to start.

But at the same time, he couldn't deny that urge to share that burden with someone else, to voice the horrors he had faced in hopes that it would be like removing poison from his many wounds. He had never been given the opportunity before, and while it seemed like everything within him screamed that it was a bad idea, there was a tiny part that felt like maybe he could have a tiny bit of _peace_ if he just got it out.

Granger was an anomaly. One minute she was screaming at him with hatred and unforgiveness and the next she was showing more concern and thoughtfulness than anyone else had ever shown to him in his entire life. It was confusing, and he just couldn't keep up with her emotions and her change of behavior.

'_You _watched_, Malfoy! You _watched_ that vile woman _torture_ me and you didn't even try and stop her!'_

The words were repeating in his mind over and over and over again, punctured only by the memories of her screaming that awful night.

She was right, he knew. He didn't do anything. He let it keep going. It certainly hadn't been the worst thing he had seen during the reign of the Dark Lord, but it had affected him the most. Her words instantly resurrected the feelings of guilt he had been spending two years trying to suppress.

He slowly drifted back down to the ground, feeling defeated in more than one way and seeing now that distraction was futile. He shouldered his broom and made the slow march back to the manor, wishing the heavy rain clouds would unleash their moisture and cleanse him from all these _feelings_ inside his chest.

He had long ago realized just how wrong he was, just how wrong his entire family had been in their beliefs on supremacy. The Dark Lord was a twisted monster with no feeling and no happiness. All those times he had belittled and insulted Granger and so many others for their blood had been nothing but lies and delusions. The cruelty with which he had treated the world weighed on him _every fucking day_ and he _knew_ he was wrong.

He swore as he lowered himself into the unbearably hot bathtub. He may not have been flying for long, but he had been so intent on not _thinking_ that he had done his body a number. The soothing potions in the hot water healed and calmed his body, but his mind was racing furiously still.

He wanted to make it up to the world what he had done, but he knew that he never could and he knew they didn't really want him to. They wanted to hate him, wanted to blame him. Sure he had escaped Azkaban, but that didn't mean that they hadn't condemned him as guilty anyways. He _was_ guilty, and no one was ever going to look past that. If Hermione Granger, advocate for the _house elves_ couldn't have compassion for him, no one could.

He sunk beneath the water, wishing he could just as easily sink away from who he was and emerge as someone new.

Granger's words had hurt more than anything else that had ever been spoken to him, and he didn't know why. He was a failure in her eyes, an evil monster almost as bad as the Dark Lord himself. When he realized exactly what she thought of him he discovered exactly how much he wanted and needed her respect. He hated feeling so dependent on her, so weak and needy, but it was true.

He briefly wondered if it would make a difference if he told her what he really thought. If she knew how sorry he was, would she forgive him? If he explained what he really believed about the Dark Lord and all that rot, shared his horrible experiences like she seemingly wanted him to, would she see him differently?

He didn't know why her opinion of him mattered so much, but he had to acknowledge that it did.

Hermione's reactions to his house had bothered him a lot. It made him feel like _he_ was the evil, sadistic one. And he couldn't help but feeling that if Hermione had been a Pureblood then it wouldn't have happened at all. Purebloods were used to buildings that held so much history— history that was good and bad. Yes, it was difficult at times, but in the end they never let the building's history stop them. Hermione's muggle heritage caused her to react differently.

But then, meeting with her had _proved_ what she thought about him. She _did_ think he was evil and sadistic. His actions had seemingly proved it to her. He had made it clear over the years that he hated her because of her blood and would do anything to get rid of her.

He didn't really want to get rid of her, of course. Watching her be tortured had made him acknowledge at least that. Did he hate her blood?

For the last week he couldn't stop asking himself whether or not he really had a problem tainting his bloodline. It _did_ seem like such a waste of his ancestor's efforts for purity just to have him completely ruin it all now. But if he was honest, that wasn't what really bothered him. And Draco _was_ honest with himself that day. About everything. He was so honest that he thought he might turn into a Gryffindor and start burping out gold and burgundy butterflies. Or something like that. But his honesty had led him to some conclusions about blood and life and Hermione, and part of him wanted to make her listen as he explained himself.

At least, he wanted to mostly explain himself. He would not explain that her presence in his life actually was _most_ welcome, nor the fact that the idea of her walking away from him forever made him a teensy bit upset. Not that he actually had any romantic feelings for her, but her kindness and presence in his life was more than he had ever hoped for from someone, especially since the war. He wasn't so willing to let go of that right away.

There was a war waging in him now. Would he ever receive any more kindness from her? It certainly didn't look like it.

Explaining himself to her would be futile. Granger may be compassionate, but he didn't think she could _ever_ understand why he served the Dark Lord, she was someone who would have rather died than give in, someone who _had_ almost died to bring him down. His excuses would be null to her because she had done everything that he had not, and he had done everything that she hadn't. How could someone who _hadn't _messed up ever respect someone who _had? _

"Master," a voice interrupted from the other side of the door.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice sounding angry and gruff.

"You's is having a letter from Miss, Master, and you's is telling me to bring it to you if it is coming."

He sighed but climbed out of the tub anyways, wrapping a towel around his waist. He wondered if he was going to have to endure more nagging from her to share his _feelings_ with her. He sneered at the thought. Men like him didn't share their _feelings_.

He couldn't even think the word without a shudder.

He exited his bathroom and took the letter from the elf.

"Thank you, Flow."

The elf bowed and disappeared with a 'pop.'

He walked over and sat down on his bed opening the letter with a bit of trepidation.

_Malfoy,_

_There's something important I need to tell you. Can you come over, please? The floo is open whenever you're ready. _

_-Hermione_

This witch certainly would keep him on his toes. That had not been what he was expecting. Something important to tell? As in she found a way to break off the engagement? Someone had died? She really hated him? He really had no idea what it could be, but his curiosity was definitely raging.

_Damn woman, that's probably what she wanted._

It worked though. He would go. But he _certainly_ wasn't going to let her know when. Perhaps he could catch her in the act of something embarrassing, or at least have the element of surprise. The only question was whether he should go right away and be there before she was mentally prepared to handle him or go much, much later so that she would have to wait in anxiety for him.

Both thoughts were tempting, but his curiosity was too strong to wait much longer. He would go with the surprise option. He said a spell to dry his hair and got dressed as quickly as possible, emerging from her fireplace only several minutes after having received her letter. She was sitting on the sofa apparently lost deep in thought.

"Granger," Draco greeted.

Hermione blinked up at him, temporarily lost for words.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Hello, Malfoy," she finally said. "Tea?" So she was expecting a long chat? He nodded, so she stood up and began heading towards the kitchen. "It'll be just a moment. I don't have slaves to do my bidding."

"Pity that is. Would you like to borrow one of mine?" She didn't bother to respond.

Draco took the opportunity to wander around her living room while Hermione wasn't in the room. He had been in her flat before, but never had he been able to observe things very closely. As anyone could have predicted, the living room looked more like a library. He scanned the shelves, intrigued by the many different types of books she had. There were some he didn't even recognize, though judging by the covers they were probably muggle.

There were a couple of books sitting on her coffee table. He picked them up and quickly scanned the titles, quite pleased as he realized that they were about wizarding weddings. He really didn't want to have to be the one to give her the news about their wedding night. But of course, it wasn't very much like Hermione not to be prepared. Besides, at this rate it didn't look like they'd ever _make_ it to the wedding night.

"Are you done snooping?"

"No, but I can certainly pause while you're in the room," he said. Hermione shook her head at him and set the tea tray down on the coffee table.

They both sat down on the sofa as Hermione began preparing her tea. Draco was carefully observing the witch in front of him, as he found himself doing so often as of late, and wondering what on _earth_ was going through her mind. The entire last twenty-four hours had been so peculiar and he really didn't know what to think of her behavior. Perhaps she would explain herself this evening.

Hermione was trying hard to hide her nervousness from Draco. There was something about him that always put her on edge. Whenever he was around it was harder to think clearly, and she even struggled a little bit in forming coherent arguments. And she dreaded the conversation they were about to have. She knew what she had to say to him, and quite frankly she didn't want to.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly burst out.

"What?" Draco said, surprise evident on his features. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this what was so important that she tell him? Or was she sorry for what she was about to do next?

"I was wrong last night. I shouldn't have freaked out."

"You were... wrong?" he asked, confused. Apart from his idiotic and insincere Slytherin classmates trying to get into his good graces, this might be the first time someone had ever apologized to him in his life.

"Are you trying to rub it in?" she asked, getting a little impatient.

"No, I just..." he trailed off. "I'm just not used to apologies. It's so— _Hufflepuff_."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh! I'm supposed to say something now, right?" he asked, jogging his brain to remember. "Something like, 'apology accepted'? Yes, that's it. Apology accepted!"

"Only if you mean it."

"Oh."

"I just," Hermione began, looking down at the lone couch cushion that separated them, "I just panicked. All I could think about was how many people had _died_ in that room. In that entire building. And the whole Manor suddenly felt _evil_ to me then. I had to get out."

She paused for a moment, thinking hard.

"But then today, Ginny pointed out that it was the same at Hogwarts, and I never panic there. And I can't let the past dictate my present. I don't want him to control me anymore. I don't want Voldemort to ruin my life more than he already has."

Draco looked at her in stunned silence. He had never seen such humility. It was always people putting him down in place or esteeming him and trying to impress him. Never equality, and certainly not ever this type of honesty.

Hermione began to fidget nervously when he didn't respond. Finally she said, "Are you going to laugh at me?"

"Maybe. But Why?"

"I'm just so embarrassed!" she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands. "I ran out of there like a bloody coward! And then I avoided you just like a Slytherin!"

He would have laughed if she hadn't gotten him in such a terrible mood that day.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she asked. "You know, for last night?"

"No." If he wasn't such a Slytherin he would have told her that the Drawing Room has nearly the same effect on him. He would have told her he couldn't go into the Dining Hall either, and hadn't since Voldemort himself had been in the house. He would have told her that there wasn't a day that goes by when he doesn't think about all the deaths he had witnessed with his own eyes in that house. But he was a Slytherin, and that little honesty was hard enough as it was. So he changed the subject instead.

"That still doesn't address the issue from this morning," he said. Hermione could tell that he was still really angry with her about it.

"Which issue exactly?" she asked, swirling the tea around her cup. Why did she feel so guilty? It _wasn't_ her fault. "I recall several."

"Well we could start with the issue involving you refusing to marry me."

"You make it sound like you _want_ to marry me."

He had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Granger, if you want to get your wand snapped instead of being stuck to me forever, be my guest. I won't stop you."

"Right, well I'm not about to get my wand snapped, and it's too late to change the law now. Besides, even if we could get past the marriage law, I don't think we could break the contract so easily. It's a done deal."

"Great, glad we got that cleared up. I'll be sending an owl about our next '_date_.'"

"Malfoy, wait," Hermione said. "You know there's more we should talk about."

"I told you already, Granger. I don't feel like having some heart-to-heart about the war. Find some Weasel to do that with."

"This morning made me realize something," she said, ignoring him. "But before we get to that, I should apologize."

"You're going bonkers," he said. "You've already apologized tonight. You acted like a coward. I get it." And the first apology was a shock in itself. Would she seriously apologize _again_?

"No, I need to apologize about something else."

He was really intrigued, but he wasn't about to let her know that. She might use it against him. "Well go on then, get to it."

"You can't make this easy, can you?"

He merely raised an eyebrow in response. Since when has he ever made anything easy for her?

"I shouldn't have said those things," she stated quietlly. "This morning," she clarified once seeing his confused expression.

"What things exactly are you talking about? You said a lot of 'things' this morning."

"About you and how you watched while people were tortured and... I dont know. You were right. There's a lot I don't understand."

"You've finally said something true for once in your life," he said, standing up to leave again.

"Can you help me understand?" she asked. "I want to. I want to know, Malfoy."

"Granger, how many times do I have to tell you this?" he said, feeling really frustrated now. "I'm not having this conversation with you! I'm not going to sit down and spill my guts out for you just so you can feel bad for 'poor ickle Malfoy!' I know you hate me, so don't bother pretending you care."

He was about to throw the floo powder into the fireplace when her next words, spoken so quietly he barely heard them, made him freeze midaction.

"I don't hate you."

He turned around and sneered. "That's a load of bollocks."

"I'm not lying," she told him sincerely. "I don't hate you." There was honesty seeping from every pore of her body, but he still couldn't believe her.

"Yes you do, Granger. I'm an evil _Death Eater_, remember?"

"I don't think you're evil."

"Really? Have you forgotten the bit about how I watched while my Aunt tortured you, then? Or the part where I tried to hand you and your precious Potter over to the Dark Lord?"

She grimaced at the memory, but she still didn't back down. "I think there's more to this story."

"Come on, Granger," he said in a low voice. "Actions speak louder than words. Haven't I _proven_ how evil I am? Haven't I called you a mudblood enough times for you to believe that I mean it?"

He wasn't sure why he was goading her, but he couldn't seem to stop. He _knew_ this is what she thought about him, and he wanted to hear her admit it.

"Sit back down, Malfoy," she sighed. "I know you're not evil, but you _are_ acting like a git."

Oh. He hadn't been expecting that. He sent her a small glare but sat down anyways.

"I'm not sharing my feelings with you," he said grumpily.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and turned to face him better. "I don't expect you to. You're far too sneaky and mistrustful to do something like that."

His expression seemed to say, 'what on earth does that mean?'

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'll answer." Why was he still here? He should be leaving. She's come to her senses, she's even apolgized. Their business should be over. He had come early so that he could have the upper hand but she was the one that kept surprising him.

"Do you hate me?"

"What kind of question is that, Granger?" he asked, not entirely sure how to respond.

"It's easy. Do you hate me?"

"I'm evil Malfoy, Granger. I hate all muggleborns remember?"

"Say it, then." She looked a little smug. She was calling his bluff and she knew it. Damn.

He sighed, feeling defeated.

"I don't hate you," he finally mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Good. I don't hate you either."

"Fantastic, let's have a party."

"Why don't you hate me?" _Gods_, she seemed determined to make this the most awkward conversation on the planet. What was he supposed to say to her? This day just seemed to keep getting worse and it wasn't even two o'clock.

"Can't you just accept the fact that I don't and move on with it?" he asked, irritated.

"No."

"Well I'm not answering you."

"Harry suspected you. Back in sixth year," she said quietly, changing the subject _again_. He glared at her for a moment before facing forward so he didn't have to look at her. What did she _want_ from him? Hadn't he been civil enough with her during the last week?

"Bravo to Potter. He's so clever," he spat.

"I didn't believe him," she went on. "I didn't think you would ever join the Dark Lord. I didn't think the Dark Lord would give the mark to someone so young."

"Looks like you were wrong then, doesn't it?"

She ignored him and kept talking.

"Ron says he always knew you'd become a Death Eater, that you've been evil since the day you were born."

"Weasel King might have proven you wrong for once, then."

"Harry doesn't really talk about it anymore. It's hard to know what he really thinks. He doesn't always just provide that information like Ron does."

Why was she telling him this? Did she want to make him feel worse? If so, it was working.

"That night on the tower? When Dumbledore d―"

"I know what happened to him!" he snapped, still refusing to look at her.

"Harry doesn't talk about it. I don't know everything that happened up there."

She paused. Was she expecting him to provide the details? Because it wasn't going to happen.

"But I know that you lowered your wand," she finally whispered. He wasn't in Hermione's flat anymore. He was on top of the tower, watching as Dumbledore offered an out, watching as his one escape was swallowed in green light and thrown into oblivion. He couldn't help but shudder at the memory that was still all too clear.

A tiny, warm hand suddenly grabbed one of his. He looked up at Granger, confused. Was she comforting him? When it had been all his fault?

"I don't blame you," she said quietly, looking him straight in the eye. Her honesty terrified him. He had never experienced such raw, blunt truth like he experienced from her. "Not for Dumbledore. And not for... not for Bellatrix."

She squeezed his hand. He felt like... crying? It was a strange emotion, but it felt strangely good to know that there was at least one person who didn't completely blame him for the death of the beloved Headmaster.

Would it hurt to open up to her? To Granger, who had already offered more care and understanding in the last week than anyone save Dumbledore had offered him in his entire life? Perhaps he could tell her one thing, only one.

After several minutes of silence he began. "Ever since the war I've been reading. A lot," he said, his voice somewhat flat. It was almost as if he had taken Veritaserum.

She looked surprised, and slightly confused. He didn't look away from her, he couldn't now. And she didn't break the eye contact either. When she didn't say anything, he went on.

"Since I don't have a job, there's really not much else for me to do. One day about a year ago I found this diary from one of my ancestor's. Elizabeth Malfoy, born in 1632. It fascinated me, so I read the entire thing. It was in her diary that I found out something really rather important. Elizabeth Malfoy was muggleborn."

"No!" she gasped.

"Yes. She was really shy at Hogwarts, and sorted into Slytherin. No one had bothered to ask if she was Pureblood straight away, and she didn't tell them one way or another. But then a Malfoy heir three years older caught her eye, and she knew that if it came out that she was muggleborn, she would never have a chance with him. She acted as if she was Pureblood, and since she was so quiet and friendless, no one bothered to look into it. One day, when she turned seventeen, she slipped him a love potion and they eloped. I don't think she ever told him the truth. She made him think that she was a Pureblood from some far away country, and he was stupid enough to believe her. Either that or he didn't actually want to know the truth. The Malfoys haven't been completely pure in ages."

"Did they know? Did anyone ever find out?"

"If anyone did find out, they never would have admitted it. Elizabeth was fairly certain no one found out in her lifetime, and by then it would have been too late. It was better to keep it a secret and keep on pretending she was Pureblood."

"But that means that everything the Malfoys have based their lives and ideals on for centuries was completely false!" Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," Draco replied. "Which brings me to my conclusion. I don't care about blood purity. Technically, I'm not a Pureblood anyways, so why should it matter for me to marry a muggleborn?"

"Draco, that's―"

"Wait, I'm not finished," he cut her off, looking away from her again. "There's something about muggleborns that really bothers me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She wasn't sure she would like this.

"They've permeated our society and taken over everything. That in itself really isn't all that big of a deal to begin with. But Purebloods for centuries have been preserving our cultures, our traditions, our magic, our history, our homes... And now all of that is being ruined and forgotten. We're forgetting our history and where we came from just like the muggles forget about theirs. After hundreds of years of so carefully preserving things, it's all being destroyed, all in one generation. I hate that," he admitted.

Hermione didn't respond for quite some time. She was trying to process, to really understand what he was saying. "So you're saying you hate muggleborns? Because they're discarding your history." Her shoulders tensed and she turned away from him.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all." It didn't look like Hermione believed him. "Granger, I don't care about blood status anymore. At all. I just think it would be a shame to lose everything."

"I see," she said, though she really wasn't sure she did understand.

"Look," Draco said, trying to get her to comprehend what he wanted to get across. "That's why I was so insistent we live in Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys have made a lot of mistakes. But that doesn't mean we should pretend they never happened. If anything we should learn from them, and then maybe history will stop repeating itself. There's a lot of really great history at the Manor. I don't want to throw it all out. That's all I'm asking."

"Wow..." Hermione said, a little bit shocked. But as she processed what he was saying, and realized that he was being honest, she said, "Draco, that's wonderful!" Her face lighting up in a smile.

"It's really not that big of a deal," he mumbled, feeling awkward.

"Yes it is!" she said, still beaming. "I've been waiting _years_ to hear someone like you say something like that. Just wait until everyone hears! They'll be so―"

"No!" he suddenly said, very firmly. "Absolutely not. I'm not about to go off and give the _Prophet_ some huge interview about my _change of heart_. And I don't want you to either."

"_Okay," _Hermione said slowly, a little confused. "I won't be selling this information to the reporters. Got it. But Harry and Ron―"

"Not them either, Granger," he interrupted again, his face looking stern.

"Malfoy I really don't understand why it's such an issue for other people to know. If you've really changed your views, why not share it?"

"If? Do you think I'm lying then?"

"No, but this is a big deal Malfoy. If people can see that a Malfoy has seen things differently, maybe they'll be willing to rethink things themselves."

"Granger, if this goes to the presses they're going to go _wild_ over it. No one will be able to talk about anything else for _weeks_. I don't want to deal with that."

"Okay," Hermione said, a little disappointed.

"So this stays between you and me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Draco finished off the cold tea in his cup and set it down on the tray. Hermione couldn't handle the awkward silence any longer so she picked the tea up and took it back to the kitchen to clean the cups and put everything away.

His revelation had been surprising. She was hoping that he would open up to him, but she hadn't _really_ expected him to. It's not as if he had answered any of her questions about the past, but this was certainly a huge step. She was _dying_ to tell her best friends about this newest revelation. Was he actually telling the truth? He _seemed_ honest enough. Why had he told her what he did?

"Do you have plans for tonight?" Draco asked from behind her. She jumped, nearly dropping the tea cups she was about to put away. She hadn't heard him walk in. It was odd hearing that question coming from him, especially since it was directed to her. She paused for a moment, trying to think of any good excuses she might have not to spend any more time with him. Her brain was buzzing with all the new information and she needed to sort it out.

"No," she sighed. "Why do you ask?"

"Don't be too eager to spend time with me, Granger," Malfoy said sarcastically. "People might think we're engaged or something."

She put the tea back on the proper shelf and turned around to look at him.

"I figured you could pick out a ring today," he finally explained. "

"Oh."

"So are you coming?"

"Yeah," she answered after a moment of considering it. "Let's go," she said, finally ready to act like the Gryffindor she truly was.


End file.
